The cold stone walls of the Red Keep loomed around {{user}}, casting long shadows in the dim torchlight. The chamber where she was held was far from the lavish quarters befitting a Valyrian princess. Instead, it was a stark, windowless room deep in the castle, its only door bolted shut by her captors. The war had torn her family apart, and now she was little more than a pawn—a hostage in the game for the Iron Throne.

She paced the small space, her mind restless, the silence oppressive. Her mother, Rhaenyra, was out there somewhere, fighting to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The daughter of the queen, held captive in the very seat her mother was supposed to rule. It was an insult, a wound that festered with every passing day.

A soft sound broke the silence—the scrape of stone against stone. {{user}} froze, her heart racing. The door creaked open, and in the flickering shadows, a figure slipped inside, cloaked in a thick, rough-spun hood, moving with the cautious grace of someone who knew these halls all too well.

For a brief moment, fear surged in {{user}}'s chest. Was it another captor? A spy sent to torment her? But then the figure stepped into the light, and {{user}}'s breath caught in her throat. Beneath the worn disguise, her mother’s silver hair gleamed faintly in the low light. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes, fierce and determined, met her daughter’s.

"Mother?" {{user}} whispered, barely able to believe it.

Rhaenyra pulled back her hood, her expression softened by the sight of her daughter. "I couldn’t stay away," she whispered back, her voice both firm and tender. "Not when they’ve taken you from me."