Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. The Song of Ice and Fire is owned by George R. R. Martin I make no money from writing this fanfic. This is only for fun.

Prologue: The Union of Fire and Storm (280 AC)

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was resplendent, its vaulted ceilings festooned with banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Baratheon, entwined together for the first time. The crimson dragon of the Targaryens coiled around the black stag of the Baratheons, a herald of the union to come. The hall was filled with the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms, all gathered to witness the marriage of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Rhaelle Baratheon, a union that promised to strengthen the bonds between the Iron Throne and the Stormlands.

King Aerys II, the Mad King, watched from the Iron Throne with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, his fingers drumming on the armrest. Despite his unpredictable behavior, he had approved of the match, recognizing the political advantage it offered. Beside him stood Queen Rhaella, her expression serene but her eyes betraying a hint of sadness. She had endured much in her marriage to Aerys, and now she watched her eldest son step into a new chapter of his life.

Rhaegar stood at the altar, his silver-gold hair shining in the torchlight, his violet eyes calm and contemplative. He wore the traditional black and red of his house, the three-headed dragon emblazoned on his chest. As the doors at the far end of the hall opened, all eyes turned to see the bride.

Rhaelle Baratheon entered, a vision in gold and black. Her dark hair, a hallmark of her house, cascaded over her shoulders, and her blue eyes shone with determination and pride. She moved with the grace of a queen, her every step a testament to her noble lineage. Beside her walked her father, Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, his face a mask of stoic pride.

As Rhaelle reached the altar, she and Rhaegar exchanged a look that spoke of mutual respect and understanding. They had been betrothed for a year, and in that time, they had come to know each other well. Rhaegar admired her intelligence and strength, while Rhaelle respected his sense of duty and his deep, if often hidden, kindness.

The High Septon began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the hall as he invoked the gods to bless this union. As Rhaegar and Rhaelle spoke their vows, promising to honor and protect each other, the gathered lords and ladies watched with bated breath. This marriage was not just a personal union but a political one, with implications that would ripple across the realm.

When the ceremony concluded, the hall erupted in applause. Rhaegar and Rhaelle shared their first kiss as husband and wife, sealing their vows before the eyes of the realm. As they turned to face their guests, hand in hand, the future of Westeros seemed a little brighter, if only for a moment.

Yet, as the celebrations began, a sense of foreboding hung in the air. King Aerys' erratic behavior, the growing tensions between the great houses, and the ever-present threat of rebellion loomed over the festivities. But for now, at least, there was a moment of peace, a brief respite from the storm that always seemed to gather around the Iron Throne.