Stormlands, Evenfall Hall – 119 AC

It's been four name days since I became Lucerys Velaryon, a true-born princess with Valyrian blood in my veins and the promise of a life I never dared to dream of when I was Joanna Snow, a forgotten bastard of Winterfell. Sometimes I still feel the cold of the North in my bones, the bite of Winterfell's chill that never seemed to leave me, no matter how many layers of fur I wrapped myself in. And then there are days like this, when the wind rushes past my face as I soar through the skies on Meleys' back, and I can hardly believe the change in my fate. But the past has a way of clinging to you, like a shadow that stretches out far beyond what it should, making you question if you ever really left it behind.

When I was Joanna Snow, I spent most of my life trapped behind the high walls of Winterfell. Oh, they were meant to protect, to keep the dangers of the North at bay, but all I ever saw were walls closing in, inch by inch, with every passing day. The sky always seemed gray, and the wind howled constantly, as if the very land was lamenting its own existence. Wintertown, if you could even call it that, was a pathetic cluster of hovels where people scratched out a living as best they could, but there was no life there. Just survival. Not that I ever saw much of it, though. I was kept within the castle, where the walls were thick and the fires burned warm, but there was an emptiness in that warmth, a hollowness that I could never fill, no matter how many feasts or gatherings I was invited to.

I was a Snow, after all, and no amount of kindness from my cousins could change that fact. My cousins were kind, in their own way. Robb was the closest I had to a brother, and there were moments when we were just children, playing in the godswood, pretending we were something more than what we were. But those moments were rare, fleeting like the summer snows that melted before you could catch them. For the most part, I was just there, a shadow in the background, a girl with no real future, a girl with no place beyond the walls of Winterfell.

But it wasn't all bad, was it? Winterfell had its moments. The smell of warm bread in the kitchens, the crackling of the fire in the great hall, the way the snow crunched underfoot when the winter came full force. It was home, for what it was worth. And yet, it was a prison, too. There was nothing for me beyond those walls, nothing waiting for me out there in the vast expanse of the North. I knew deep down, that if I ever stepped beyond the gates, I would just be swallowed up by the cold, forgotten like so many other orphans.

Bastard girls only had one destiny… only one way of earning their keep…

The only time I ever got to leave Winterfell was when war came, and they needed every sword, every capable hand. I was no warrior, but I was of the Stark blood, bastard or not, and so I marched with them. South. I had dreamed of it, you know. Seeing the South, the lands where the sun actually shone, where the world was alive with color. But those dreams were shattered as soon as we crossed the borders of the North. War has a way of turning everything to ash. The towns we passed were empty or filled with the dying and the dead. The castles were broken, their banners torn and bloodied. There was no joy in it, no adventure, just death creeping in from all sides. By the time we reached the Riverlands, I had seen more death than life, and whatever small part of me that had hoped for something more was buried with the countless others we left in the mud.

And then, I died. Or at least, that's what I thought happened. But instead of the darkness I expected, I awoke as Lucerys Velaryon. A princess. A dragon rider. I was reborn into a world so different from the one I had known that it took me days to believe it was real. The warmth here is different—not the smothering, cloying warmth of Winterfell's fires, but the warmth of the sun on your skin, of a breeze that doesn't chill you to the bone. And the colors… gods, the colors. Everything here is vibrant, alive in a way I never knew possible. The blues of the sea, the greens of the forests, the reds and teals of the tapestries that hang in our halls. It's like stepping into a dream, one I never want to wake from.

Flying on Meleys with my grandmother, Rhaenys, is the greatest thrill of all. The wind in my hair, the ground far below, the sense of absolute freedom—there's nothing like it. Meleys is a creature of legend, and yet she carries me as if I were a part of her, as if we were one. It's as if the sky itself belongs to me, as if I can go anywhere, be anyone. And maybe I can. After all, I'm Lucerys Velaryon now. I'm no longer a forgotten bastard; I'm a princess, and the world is mine to explore. We're traveling to the Stormlands now, my grandmother, my uncle Aemond, and I. The Stormlands, where my great-grandmother was born, where the winds blow fiercely and the storms rage. I can't wait to see it, to feel the rain on my face, to stand on the cliffs and look out at the endless sea. This is what life should be—full of adventure, full of wonder.

There's a part of me, deep down, that can't quite let go of Joanna Snow. She lingers in the shadows of my mind, whispering in the quiet moments, warning me. She tells me of the cold, of the walls that once held me in at Winterfell, keeping me from seeing the world beyond. She reminds me that nothing lasts forever, that even the brightest days can end in darkness. Joanna had lived through too much, and despite everything, her voice still echoes in the corners of my thoughts.

But I push her aside, most of the time. I have to. I'm Lucerys Velaryon now, not the bastard of Winterfell, not Joanna Snow. This is my life. My future. The North is behind me, a distant memory that fades a little more with each passing day. The biting cold, the endless gray skies, the feel of stone beneath my feet—that's a life I no longer live.

And yet... can you ever really leave behind who you were? Can you shake off a past that clings to you like frost on a winter morning? Or does that shadow follow you, no matter how high you fly, no matter how far you go?

I don't know the answer. Maybe no one does. But for now, I'm going to enjoy every moment, every breath of this new life. Because it's mine, and I'll be damned if I let it slip through my fingers.

Evenfall Hall rises before us, startling me from my melancholy. Its towering walls and battlements silhouetted against the heavy sky of the Stormlands. The air is thick with the promise of rain, and the wind carries the tang of salt from the nearby sea, whipping through the open courtyard as we land. Meleys' great wings stir the air, and I feel the weight of the Stormlands' winds tugging at my cloak as we descend. This is House Tarth's ancestral seat, a castle that has stood through centuries of storms, watching the sea crash against its cliffs and the wind batter its towers.

We've been received with all the ceremony that comes with our names, of course. Grandmother, resplendent in her deep scarlet riding leathers, dismounted from her dragon with the ease of someone who had been flying for decades. Aemond followed suit, his every move precise and calculated. The Tarths and the household had lined up to greet us, all bowing and murmuring pleasantries as we made our way into their hall.

Grandmother was all in command, her presence filling the room effortlessly. She was in her element here—storm and sea were in her blood, and Evenfall Hall welcomed her like an old friend. Aemond was quieter, his gaze sweeping over the castle's great hall, taking in every detail. And me? I was trying to make myself remember that I wasn't a guest. I was Lucerys Velaryon, dragonrider, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and this was where I belonged.

Lord Tarth was a man of sturdy build, his face weathered by years of wind and rain. He greeted Rhaenys with warmth, bowing deeply to the Queen Who Never Was, though the title always sat oddly for me. She had more presence, more authority, than most queens I'd ever met. His gaze flicked briefly to Aemond, his smile tightening just a bit.

"Your Grace, your Highnesses," Lord Tarth greeted us, his voice deep and steady. "Evenfall Hall welcomes you. It's an honor to receive you under our roof."

Rhaenys inclined her head, her sharp eyes gleaming. "Thank you, Lord Tarth. It's been far too long since I've set foot in these lands. I see these halls still stand strong against the winds."

He chuckled, a sound like gravel. "The winds are nothing compared to the storms we face from across the sea. But we endure, as always."

Brienne, tall and broad-shouldered for her age, stood by her father's side, watching us with a quiet intensity. Her eyes flitted between me and Aemond, perhaps sizing us up. She was like her father in many ways—sturdy, grounded. There was a hardness in her that reminded me a little too much of Winterfell.

"Your rooms have been prepared," Lord Tarth continued, gesturing to a servant who stood by, ready to lead us. "I hope you find them comfortable after your journey. The sea can be unforgiving, even from the sky."

My grandmother stayed to discuss tonight's welcoming banquet with Lord Tarth, while Aemond and I followed the servant through the stone corridors of Evenfall Hall, I couldn't shake the feeling of history pressing down on me. The walls were thick with it, with the weight of the generations who had walked these halls before us. The Stormlands were nothing like the North, but there was something about Evenfall Hall that reminded me of Winterfell. It had the same sense of permanence, the same feeling that these walls had stood through countless storms and would continue to stand long after we were gone.

The corridors were cool, dimly lit by torches and flickering candles. The stone underfoot was smooth, worn down by centuries of footsteps. When we finally reached my chambers, Aemond gave me one last glance before turning to leave. He bowed his head slightly, a formality we both knew wasn't necessary between us, but it made me smile all the same.

"Sleep well, Lucerys," he said softly, his voice as calm as the sea before a storm.

I tilted my head, teasing. "And you, Aems."

He smirked, kissing my knuckles before disappearing down the corridor with Ser Arryk trailing him. Ser Erryk remained at my door, a silent sentinel, as I stepped inside the room. I push open the heavy wooden door and step inside, greeted by the warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth. The room is grand, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in the gray light of the stormy afternoon. Rich tapestries hang from the walls, depicting scenes of battles long past, of stags and dragons and storms that rage across the sky. My bed is a massive thing, draped in furs and silks, and the floor is covered in thick carpets that muffle the sound of my footsteps.

I walk to the window first, my eyes drawn to the stormy sea beyond. The waves crash against the rocks below, sending up sprays of white foam that catch the light like diamonds. The wind is fierce, howling through the cracks in the stone, but it's a familiar sound, one that reminds me of the North, though here it carries the scent of salt instead of snow. I stand there for a moment, letting the wind tug at the loose strands of my hair, before I turn back to the room. There's work to be done, and I don't have time to lose myself in memories.

My gowns are laid out on the bed, a sea of silk and velvet in varying shades of teal and blue, all accented with silver and white. It's a sight to behold, the colors rich and vibrant, so different from the drab grays and browns I wore in Winterfell. I walk over to the bed, running my fingers over the fabrics, feeling the softness beneath my fingertips. Each gown is a work of art, tailored to fit me perfectly, to show off my status as a Valyrian princess.

I can't help but smile as I pick up one of the gowns, holding it up to my body as I look in the mirror. It's a deep teal, the color of the sea just before a storm, with silver embroidery along the bodice and sleeves that catches the light. The skirt is full and sweeping, the kind of gown that demands attention, that makes you feel like you could command a room with just a glance. It's perfect for tonight, for my first banquet in the Stormlands, where I'll be surrounded by strangers who will all be watching, judging, trying to see what kind of person Lucerys Velaryon really is.

I drape the gown over a chair and turn back to the bed, where my accessories are laid out on a velvet cushion. There are delicate silver pins for my hair, each one shaped like a starfish or a shell, and a necklace of small, lustrous pearls that catches the light with every movement. There's also a belt, made of intricately woven silver threads, with a small, glittering pendant shaped like a wave. It's all so beautiful, so perfect, that I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as I start to imagine how it will all come together.

Before I can get too lost in my thoughts, there's a knock at the door, and my maids enter, their arms full of supplies for the evening's preparations. Tyla, Alla, and Kate are all smiles as they bustle into the room, their chatter filling the space with a lively energy that helps chase away the lingering shadows of the storm outside.

"My lady," Tyla says with a grin, "we've brought everything you'll need to dazzle the Stormlanders tonight."

"I should hope so," I reply, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

"You could never disappoint, my lady," Alla adds, setting down a tray of perfumes and oils on the table by the fire. "They'll be talking about you for years to come."

Kate, the youngest of the three, is already at the chair, holding up the teal gown I've chosen with wide eyes. "This one is perfect, my lady," she says, her voice full of admiration. "You'll look like a queen."

"Not quite a queen," I say with a laugh, "but close enough."

The maids set to work immediately, helping me out of my dressing gown and into the teal silk. The fabric is cool against my skin, soft and smooth, and it slips over my body like water. Tyla laces up the back, pulling the gown tight around my waist, while Alla adjusts the neckline, making sure it sits just right. Kate is busy arranging the skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles and ensuring the fabric falls in perfect, graceful folds.

Once the gown is in place, they move on to the accessories. Tyla fastens the silver belt around my waist, her fingers quick and sure as she adjusts the pendant so that it catches the light just right. Alla hands me the necklace, and I place it around my neck, the cool pearls resting against my skin. Kate starts on my hair, gently brushing out the tangles before weaving the dark strands into an elegant twist at the nape of my neck. She secures it with the silver pins, each one sliding into place with a practiced hand.

As the maids began their work, weaving my hair into an elaborate style befitting a princess, the room filled with the sound of their chatter. Tyla was in charge, her deft fingers twisting and braiding my dark locks with practiced ease. Alla and Kate busied themselves with the other tasks, laying out the last of my accessories, checking the fit of my gown one final time, but they kept up a steady stream of gossip as they moved about the room. It was the kind of easy, familiar conversation that made me feel like I belonged, like I was part of something bigger than just myself.

"Did you hear about Lord Penrose's new bride?" Tyla asked, her tone full of barely contained amusement as she carefully threaded a silver ribbon through my hair. "She's a Tyrell from the Reach, and she arrived just last week. Poor thing looked like she'd never seen rain before, let alone a proper Stormlands gale. They say she's been crying every night since she got here, begging to go back home."

"She'll toughen up," Alla chimed in, her voice slightly muffled as she bent down to adjust the hem of my gown. "The Stormlands have a way of doing that. Besides, she's got a good head on her shoulders. I heard she was already asking the servants about the best way to keep the damp out of her chambers. Smart girl."

"Smart or not, she's in for a rude awakening," Kate added, her voice full of youthful confidence as she busied herself with arranging my jewelry on a nearby table. "The Stormlanders aren't exactly known for their gentle ways. Did you hear what they did to that poor merchant who tried to cheat them on the price of wine? Tossed him into the bay, they did, and let the sharks have him."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound light and carefree in the warmth of the room. "Remind me not to cross any Stormlanders, then," I said with a grin. "I'd rather keep my head above water."

"Oh, don't worry, my lady," Tyla replied, her tone teasing as she twisted another strand of hair into place. "You're far too charming for anyone to want to throw you into the sea. Besides, they wouldn't dare. Not with your grandmother watching over you like a hawk."

"That's true," Alla agreed, her voice turning more serious for a moment. "Princess Rhaenys is a force to be reckoned with. The Stormlanders may be fierce, but even they know better than to cross the Queen Who Never Was."

"She's like a dragon in human form," Kate added with a touch of awe in her voice. "And she's got Meleys, too. Who needs armies when you've got a dragon?"

"Indeed," I murmured, my mind drifting for a moment as I thought of my grandmother, of the way she carried herself with such grace and power. It was something I admired about her, something I hoped to learn from. To be strong, to be feared and respected, but still loved by those who mattered. It was a delicate balance, and one that I knew I would need to master if I was ever to truly fit into this new life.

"But enough about dragons and fierce old ladies," Tyla said, breaking into my thoughts with a playful nudge. "Tell us, my lady, do you have your eye on any of the lords who'll be at the banquet tonight? They say the Stormlander men are quite the sight, all rugged and strong, with that wild look in their eyes."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help but smile at her suggestion. "I'm not here to find a husband, Tyla," I said, my tone light but firm. "I'm here to make a good impression, to show them that I'm more than just a pretty face."

"Of course, of course," Alla said quickly, her hands fluttering nervously as she adjusted the silver belt around my waist. "But there's no harm in looking, is there? A girl's got to have some fun, after all."

"And who knows?" Kate added with a conspiratorial wink. "You might just catch the eye of a handsome lord who can't resist your charms."

I laughed again, shaking my head at their antics. "You three are incorrigible," I said, though there was no heat in my words. "I am only four! Also, the Stormlanders certainly have a reputation, don't they?"

"Oh, they do," Tyla replied, her tone full of wicked glee. "Strong as oxen, fierce as wolves, and stubborn as mules. But they've got hearts of gold, or so I've heard. And they're loyal, too. Once they've set their sights on something, they'll never let it go."

"And they love a good fight," Alla added with a nod. "You'll find no shortage of bruises and scars among them. They wear them like badges of honor."

"And yet, they're so chivalrous," Kate said, her eyes wide with admiration. "They say Lord Borros himself once swam across Shipbreaker Bay to rescue a shipwrecked sailor, even though the waves were high as mountains. It's no wonder the ladies here are all smitten with them."

"Well, let's hope they don't expect me to swim across any bays," I said with a chuckle. "I'm not sure how well I'd fare against those waves."

"You'll be fine, my lady," Tyla said reassuringly as she pinned the final strand of hair into place. "You've got more courage in you than most. Besides, you've got us to watch your back. And if all else fails, just give them that smile of yours. It's enough to make even the toughest Stormlander melt."

"Is that so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I met her gaze in the mirror.

"Absolutely," she replied, her expression serious for a moment before it broke into a grin. "You've got that Velaryon charm, my lady. The kind that could bring a man to his knees."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," I said, though I couldn't help but smile at the thought. There was power in charm, in the way people reacted to you, and I was beginning to understand just how much of an advantage that could be.

As the last touches were made, and my hair was finally secured in an elegant twist at the nape of my neck, the maids stepped back to admire their work. The silver pins sparkled like stars in my dark hair, the delicate strands artfully arranged to frame my face. I looked every bit the princess I was meant to be, and yet there was a glimmer in my eyes, a hint of something more, something that went beyond the pretty gowns and carefully chosen accessories.

"There," Tyla said with a satisfied nod. "You're ready, my lady. The Stormlanders won't know what hit them."

"Like a true Valyrian princess," Alla adds, nodding in agreement.

I turn to the mirror, and for a moment, I'm speechless. The girl staring back at me is someone I barely recognize, and yet she's someone I've always wanted to be. The gown hugs my figure perfectly, the silver accents catching the light and adding a touch of ethereal beauty. My hair is sleek and elegant, the silver pins sparkling like stars, and the necklace of pearls gleams softly against my skin. I look… I look like I belong here, like I was born to wear these clothes, to stand in these halls.

But as I stare at myself, I can't help but feel a twinge of something—doubt, perhaps? It's hard to say. There's a part of me that still sees Joanna Snow, the girl who was always overshadowed by her Stark cousins, who never quite fit in no matter how hard she tried. But that girl is gone now, replaced by Lucerys Velaryon, a princess with the blood of kings and dragons in her veins. And tonight, I'm going to prove that I belong here, that I'm more than just a name or a title.

"Thank you," I say to my maids, giving them a grateful smile. "You've outdone yourselves."

"It's our pleasure, my lady," Tyla replies, her eyes shining with pride. "Now, go show them what a true Velaryon looks like."

I nod, taking a deep breath as I turn away from the mirror and head for the door. The corridors are just as dim and silent as before, but this time, I feel different as I walk through them. Stronger, more confident. Every step I take echoes with purpose, and the train of my gown sweeps behind me like a royal banner, a symbol of who I am and what I've become.

As I make my way down the corridors toward the banquet hall, I can hear the murmur of voices, the clinking of goblets, and the shuffling of feet. The scent of roasted meats and fresh bread wafts through the air, making my stomach rumble in anticipation. It's been a long day, and I'm more than ready to dive into the feast. But it's not just the food I'm looking forward to—there's something thrilling about stepping into a room full of people, all eyes on you, knowing that you're the one they're here to see.

But before I reach the doors, I hear the whispering of the older Stormlander servants. Their voices are low, but I catch enough of their words to know they're talking about me. "Looks just like Lady Jocelyn," one of them says. "Same black hair, same blue eyes. It's uncanny."

"Could be her twin," another one agrees. "It's like seeing a ghost."

I pause for a moment, letting their words sink in. Jocelyn Baratheon, my great-grandmother… I've heard the stories, seen the portraits, but to be compared to her is… well, it's something. I can't decide if it's a compliment or just another way for people to remind me of where I come from, of the blood that runs in my veins. But either way, I'll take it. Better to be compared to a legend than to be called a bastard for not having the traditional Targaryen features.

As I neared the grand doors of the banquet hall, I spotted my grandmother, Rhaenys, and my uncle Aemond waiting for me just outside. They stood tall, or as tall as a ten-year-old boy could manage, with Rhaenys radiating that commanding presence she always had, despite the fact that Aemond and I barely reached her waist. She offered me a proud smile as I approached, and Aemond nodded at me with that serious look he always wore, as if the weight of the world already rested on his small shoulders.

"You look lovely, my dear," Rhaenys said warmly, though she bent down slightly to adjust the collar of my dress, her motherly instincts were still sharp. "Just like a true princess."

"Thank you, grandmother," I replied, trying not to fidget under her gaze. It still felt strange, all this attention, all this… importance. I wasn't used to it yet, not completely, and sometimes it felt like a game we were all playing. But when Rhaenys smiled at me like that, it was easier to believe that maybe, just maybe, I belonged here.

Aemond looked me over with that cool, assessing gaze he had, a habit he'd likely picked up from watching our elders. "Ready?" he asked, his tone serious, as if we were about to march into battle instead of a banquet. There was a certain comfort in that—Aemond always took things so seriously that it made the rest of us feel like our actions truly mattered.

"Ready," I replied, trying to match his tone, though I couldn't quite suppress the little bubble of excitement that rose up inside me.

Rhaenys led the way, and as we walked in, I did my best to keep my head high, to follow her example. Aemond and I might have been children, but tonight, we were walking into that hall as Velaryons, and I could feel the eyes of the Stormlander lords and ladies on us, sizing us up, judging us in that way adults often did with children. I kept my expression calm, like I'd been taught, even though a part of me wanted to look around wildly, taking in every little detail of the grand hall.

The Tarth family was already seated at the high table. Selwyn and Brienne were there, both around my age, maybe a bit younger. Selwyn, with his messy dark curls and freckled face, looked more interested in the food laid out before him than in our arrival. Brienne, taller than her brother and almost as tall as Aemond, was watching us with those steel-blue eyes of hers, her expression serious and thoughtful, just like Aemond's. I noticed how her hands were already stained with ink and dirt, as if she'd been playing outside right before being dragged to this feast.

Rhaenys exchanged pleasantries with Lord Tarth, but my attention was fixed on Brienne, who had turned her gaze from me to Aemond. She was looking at him with an intensity that made me frown slightly. Why was she so interested in him? Aemond might have been a prince, but he was still just a boy, like any other. I didn't understand what was so fascinating about him, especially to a girl like Brienne, who seemed more at home swinging a stick around than sitting in a banquet hall.

We took our seats, and I found myself beside Selwyn. He looked at me with wide eyes, probably a bit intimidated by the formal setting and the fact that I was a princess. But he quickly recovered, offering me a shy smile as he kicked his feet under the table.

"My lady," he said in a small voice, his cheeks turning pink. "I hope you like the food. It's supposed to be really good." His awkwardness was kind of endearing, I had to admit, but my mind kept drifting back to Brienne and Aemond, who were now seated beside each other.

I gave Selwyn a polite nod, doing my best to be kind. "Thank you, Lord Selwyn. I'm sure it will be wonderful." I wanted to engage him, to focus on our conversation, but I couldn't help glancing over at Aemond and Brienne every now and then.

Brienne was talking to Aemond, her voice low but animated. She was telling him about how she had caught a frog by the river earlier that day, and how she had wanted to bring it to the banquet to show everyone, but her septa had made her let it go. Aemond listened with that serious expression of his, nodding occasionally.

It annoyed me. I didn't know why it bothered me so much, but it did. Maybe it was the way Brienne talked to Aemond as if she had some special connection with him. Whatever it was, it made me feel uneasy, and that feeling gnawed at me as I sat there, trying to pretend I wasn't paying attention.

Selwyn must have noticed my distraction because he cleared his throat and asked, "Do you like frogs, my lady? My sister loves them. She catches them all the time."

I blinked, realizing I had been caught. "Frogs?" I repeated, trying to gather my thoughts. "I suppose they're interesting, in their own way. But I prefer the sea, really. There's something calming about the sound of the waves."

Selwyn nodded enthusiastically, clearly relieved to have found something to talk about. "The sea's amazing! Father says I'll get to sail on one of our ships soon, maybe even all the way to King's Landing. Have you been on a ship before, Princess?"

"I have," I said, forcing myself to smile and engage with him. "The first time was a bit frightening, but once you get used to it, it's wonderful. You'll love it, I'm sure."

As Selwyn continued to chatter about the sea, I did my best to focus on him, to ignore the gnawing feeling that was still twisting in my chest. Brienne was just another girl, just another noble's daughter. And Aemond was my uncle, my family. There was no reason to be bothered by their conversation, no reason to feel… jealous. But the more I tried to convince myself of that, the more the feeling grew, until it was all I could do to keep from glaring at Brienne across the table.

"Do you like stories, Princess?" Selwyn was asking, his eyes bright as he leaned closer. "I know a really good one about a shipwreck and a sea monster. My mother used to tell it to me before bed."

"Stories?" I echoed, forcing myself to smile at him. "Yes, I do. I'd love to hear it sometime."

But even as I said the words, my attention drifted back to Aemond and Brienne. They were both so serious, so intense in their conversation, and it was starting to irritate me more than I wanted to admit. What could they possibly be talking about that was so interesting? Why did Aemond seem to enjoy her company so much?

As the banquet went on, I did my best to focus on the food, on Selwyn's stories, on anything that would keep my mind off the strange, uncomfortable emotions churning inside me. But it was no use. I couldn't stop glancing over at Aemond and Brienne, couldn't stop wondering why it bothered me so much that she was the one sitting beside him, the one holding his attention.

Selwyn's voice pulled me back to the present, but his words blurred together in my mind. He was asking me something—his expression expectant, his eyes wide and hopeful—but for the life of me, I couldn't make out what he'd said. My thoughts had been too consumed with Brienne and the way she seemed to monopolize Aemond's attention, leaving me simmering in this strange, unfamiliar jealousy.

I blinked at Selwyn, trying to buy myself a moment, but my mind was blank. What had he asked? Did he want to know about my travels, my family, or maybe something trivial about the food? I was completely lost, and the more I stared at him, the more his eager expression began to falter, his smile dimming with the realization that I hadn't been listening.

"Uh, could you repeat that?" I asked, doing my best to sound casual, as if I hadn't just been caught glaring daggers at Brienne. My heart sank as I saw the disappointment in Selwyn's eyes.

Before Selwyn could answer, a voice interrupted, smooth and perfectly timed, pulling both of our attentions. "Lucerys," Aemond said, leaning slightly over the table as his cool gaze shifted from Brienne to me. "Would you care to dance?"

I nearly sighed in relief. Aemond had thrown me a lifeline, rescuing me from the embarrassment of admitting I hadn't heard a word Selwyn had said. But more than that, he was asking me to dance, a public declaration that his attention was on me, not Brienne.

Selwyn's expression fell, and I felt a tiny pang of guilt—he had been trying so hard to keep me engaged. But that pang was swiftly overshadowed by the thrill of Aemond's invitation. I was in desperate need of a change of scenery, and the idea of dancing with Aemond was exactly the distraction I needed.

"I'd love to," I replied, smiling at Aemond as I rose from my seat.

Selwyn mumbled something polite, though he couldn't quite hide the disappointment in his voice. But I couldn't dwell on it. As soon as Aemond and I moved away from the table, I could feel my spirits lift, like a weight had been taken off my shoulders.

The musicians had already struck up a lively tune, the notes filling the hall with energy and laughter. The dance floor was crowded with lords and ladies, all swirling and twirling in their elaborate gowns and doublets. The Stormlanders might have been fierce in battle, but here, they were all about joy and celebration, moving with a carefree abandon that was contagious.

Aemond led me onto the dance floor, his hand warm and firm in mine. Despite his serious nature, he was an excellent dancer—precise, graceful, and utterly in control. As we moved into the rhythm of the music, I felt my earlier irritation start to melt away, replaced by the simple pleasure of being with someone who knew me, who understood me.

We twirled around the room, the rest of the world fading into the background. All that mattered was the music, the movement, and the feeling of having Aemond's attention focused entirely on me.

"You looked like you needed rescue back there," Aemond remarked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I couldn't help but laugh, a genuine sound that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me. "You have no idea," I said, still smiling as we turned together in perfect synchronization. "Selwyn's nice, but he talks a lot."

"Too much," Aemond agreed, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was a rare expression for him, but one I cherished whenever it appeared. "I could see you weren't paying attention."

I shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "I was distracted."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "By Brienne?"

I hesitated, not wanting to admit it, but Aemond knew me too well to be fooled. "Maybe," I finally said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"There's no need for that," he said simply, his voice calm and assured. "Brienne is… something. But she's not you."

That surprised me. I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all I found was that same calm, steady confidence he always had. And for some reason, that reassured me more than anything else.

I felt a warmth spread through me, and not just from the dance. It was something more, something deeper—a recognition that Aemond valued me, that I was important to him in a way that no one else was. Not Brienne, not anyone.

"I'm glad you asked me to dance," I admitted, my voice softer now. "I needed this."

His grip on my hand tightened slightly, a subtle gesture that sent a shiver down my spine. "So did I," he replied, his tone serious.

We continued to dance, letting the music carry us through the hall. I could feel eyes on us—some curious, some envious, but none of them mattered. Not at that moment. All that mattered was the way Aemond's hand felt in mine, the way he moved with such confidence and grace, as if he was born to lead.

As the music began to wind down, signaling the end of the dance, I found myself wishing it could go on just a little longer. But when the final note played and the dancers began to disperse, Aemond and I came to a stop, our hands still clasped together.

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it. "For everything."

Aemond inclined his head, that serious look still in his eye. "Always, Lucerys."

After the dance, Aemond escorted me back to our table, his hand still resting lightly on mine. The warmth of his touch lingered even as he released me, returning to his seat beside Brienne, who watched us with an unreadable expression. I took a deep breath, smoothing down the skirt of my gown before turning my attention back to Selwyn.

He looked up as I approached, his eyes bright but a little hesitant, as if unsure whether I would return to his side after abandoning him earlier. Guilt pricked at me as I remembered how I had ignored him before, too wrapped up in my own petty jealousy to give him the attention he deserved.

"Lord Selwyn," I began, offering him what I hoped was a sincere smile. "I owe you an apology. I was a bit distracted earlier, and I fear I wasn't the best company."

Selwyn's cheeks flushed a light pink, and he waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright, Princess. I can be a bit of a bore sometimes."

"Nonsense," I replied, shaking my head firmly as I took my seat beside him. "You were telling me about a sea monster and a shipwreck, weren't you? That hardly sounds boring."

His face lit up at that, the earlier uncertainty melting away. "Oh, yes! It's one of my favorite stories. They say that just off the coast here, a hundred years ago, a massive sea dragon attacked one of our merchant ships. The sailors thought all was lost, but then a knight from our house leaped into the sea and fought it off with nothing but his sword!"

I raised an eyebrow, leaning conspiratorially. "A knight fought off a sea dragon with just a sword? That's quite the tale. Are you sure it wasn't embellished a little over the years?"

Selwyn laughed, a cheerful sound that was infectious. "Well, maybe just a little. My maester says it was probably just a big fish, but I like the sea dragon version better."

"I agree," I said, grinning back at him. "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, right?"

We spent the rest of the evening swapping stories and jokes, the earlier awkwardness completely forgotten. Selwyn told me all about life at Evenfall Hall—the secret passages he and Brienne had discovered, the times they'd snuck out to explore the forests and cliffs, and the mischief they'd gotten into with the castle's servants. In return, I shared some of my own adventures, carefully edited, of course. I told him about flying on dragonback with my grandmother, the breathtaking views from the skies, and the freedom that came with soaring above the world.

At one point, Selwyn dared me to a pie-eating contest, insisting that no one could beat him. Never one to back down from a challenge, I accepted, and soon we were both laughing uncontrollably as we tried—and failed—to outdo each other amidst cheers and playful jeers from the surrounding guests. By the end of it, my pristine gown had a few new stains, and my stomach hurt from both the food and the laughter, but I couldn't have cared less.

As the night wound down and the guests began to disperse, Selwyn walked me to the edge of the hall, his face flushed with excitement and a hint of lingering embarrassment over the pie incident.

"Thank you for making tonight so much fun," he said earnestly, his eyes shining. "I was nervous about meeting you, but you're... you're really cool."

I chuckled, feeling a warm affection for this earnest, kind-hearted boy. "Thank you, Selwyn. I had a great time, too. And for the record, next time, I will beat you at pie-eating."

He grinned widely, his earlier shyness nowhere to be found. "You're on, Princess."

We bid each other goodnight, and I made my way back through the now quiet corridors of Evenfall Hall. The earlier grandeur and noise had faded, leaving behind a peaceful silence that was both comforting and a little eerie. The torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs provided a soothing backdrop.

When I reached my chambers, the heavy wooden doors were already open, and the warm glow of candlelight spilled out into the hallway. Inside, my maids—Tyla, Alla, and Kate—were bustling about, preparing everything for my return. The large copper tub in the center of the room steamed invitingly, filled to the brim with hot, fragrant water. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, instantly relaxing my tired muscles.

"Welcome back, my lady!" Tyla chirped, her freckled face breaking into a bright smile as she curtsied. "We heard about your little contest. Seems like you had quite the night."

I groaned theatrically, rolling my eyes as I shrugged off my slightly soiled gown with their help. "Don't remind me. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to look at another pie for at least a month."

Alla giggled as she folded the gown neatly, careful despite the stains. "But you had fun, didn't you?"

Sliding into the warm water, I let out a contented sigh, sinking down until the water covered my shoulders. "I did," I admitted, closing my eyes as the heat seeped into my bones. "Selwyn's a good kid. A bit too competitive, maybe, but good."

Kate began pouring water over my hair, her gentle fingers working through the tangles. "And what about Prince Aemond? We saw you two dancing. You looked like you were having a grand time."

A smile tugged at my lips as I recalled the dance, the way Aemond had effortlessly guided me across the floor, making me forget all my earlier worries. "Aems was... well, Aemond. Stoic and serious as ever, but he knows how to make a girl feel special."

Tyla exchanged a knowing glance with Alla, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Sounds like someone has a favorite uncle."

I splashed a bit of water in her direction, laughing as she squealed and dodged out of the way. "He's my only uncle, you goose."

"Doesn't make it any less true," Kate murmured softly, her hands still working through my hair. "It's nice to have someone who cares."

I sank deeper into the tub, the combined warmth of the water and their words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. "Yes, it is," I agreed quietly.

After a thorough scrubbing and more playful banter, I stepped out of the bath feeling refreshed and pleasantly exhausted. Alla and Kate helped me into a soft nightgown, the fabric light and airy against my clean skin. Tyla brushed out my damp hair, humming a soft tune as she worked, and soon I was tucked into the massive, plush bed that dominated the room.

Just as I was settling in, the door creaked open, and Rhaenys stepped inside, her elegant gown replaced by a simple robe, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked less like the formidable Queen Who Never Was and more like a loving grandmother coming to check on her grandchild before bedtime.

"May I come in?" she asked softly, her eyes warm as they took in the cozy scene.

"Of course," I replied, sitting up slightly as she approached the bed.

She sat down on the edge, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. For a moment, she simply looked at me, her gaze filled with a tenderness that made my chest tighten. "How was your first night in the Stormlands?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I smiled, thinking back over the events of the evening—the dance with Aemond, the laughter with Selwyn, the camaraderie and joy that had filled the hall. "It was wonderful," I replied honestly. "I was nervous at first, but everyone was so welcoming. And the food was amazing, though I might have overindulged a bit."

Rhaenys chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I heard about the pie-eating contest."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Word travels fast around here."

"Especially when a princess is involved," she teased, gently pulling my hands away. "But it's good to see you enjoying yourself. These are the moments you'll remember."

I looked up at her, studying the lines of her face, the wisdom etched into every crease and curve. "What about you, grandmother? How does it feel to be back here, in your mother's lands?"

A flicker of surprise crossed her features, as if she hadn't expected the question. She was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the window where the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.

"It's... nostalgic," she finally said, a soft smile curving her lips. "I spent much of my childhood here, running through these very halls, much like you did tonight. My kepa had wanted me to learn the land that my mother came from. There are many memories here, some joyful, some bittersweet. But being back reminds me of who I am, where I come from. It's good to reconnect with that."

I reached out, placing my hand over hers. Her skin was warm and comforting, grounding me in that moment. "I'm glad we're here together," I said softly.

She looked back at me, her eyes shining with affection. "As am I, my dear. Watching you tonight, seeing you embrace this life with such grace and joy... it makes me incredibly proud."

Warmth flooded through me at her words, and I felt a lump form in my throat. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Rhaenys leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. Her hair brushed against my cheek, smelling faintly of the sea and jasmine. "Sleep well, Lucerys. Tomorrow is a new day, full of new adventures."

I smiled up at her, my eyelids already growing heavy. "Goodnight, grandmother."

She rose gracefully, smoothing down the blankets around me one last time before making her way to the door. As she stepped out, the room dimmed, leaving me alone with the soft glow of the dying embers in the hearth and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs.

I snuggled deeper into the blankets, a contented sigh escaping my lips. The day's events played through my mind like a pleasant dream—dancing with Aemond, laughing with Selwyn, the warmth that had filled every moment. As sleep pulled me under, I couldn't help but think that this new life was exactly where I was meant to be.

With that comforting thought, I drifted off into a deep, restful sleep, dreaming of sea dragons and moonlit dances beneath the stars.