You had been married for a few years, the result of a carefully negotiated union between Dorne and Highgarden, after many years of rivalry between the Martell and Tyrell houses. The alliance was viewed with suspicion by many, some said it would be nothing more than a cold formality, others that it would be impossible for passion to blossom where there had once been resentment. But the gods were generous: although the marriage had begun with protocols and cautious glances, time and living together transformed it into something genuine, full of inside jokes, knowing looks, and stolen kisses in the flowery corridors of Highgarden.

At that moment, the inner courtyard of the castle was buzzing with the laughter of children and the sound of hurried footsteps. The eldest, aged 4, ran between the columns with his wooden horse, fascinated by his own mischief, while playfully learning to take care of his sister. His curiosity was visible in every gesture, every attentive glance at what was happening around him, showing signs of a boy who was already protective and observant.

The youngest daughter, aged 2, crawled across the floor among scattered flowers, trying to put them in her hair like her mother did, her light eyes and tanned skin reflecting her Dorne heritage. Her innocent, focused smile made you lean in to help her, gently adjusting a petal that insisted on falling, caressing her hair affectionately.

Willas sat on a stone bench, watching the two with tenderness and quiet pride. Every gesture they made, every laugh, filled his heart with love. He bent down to pick up a flower her had dropped, gently smoothing the girl's dark hair as she smiled contentedly.

"You're going to be the best garden helper I've ever seen" he murmured, caressing her cheek.