Maelanarr was sitting in his room, drawing in his sketchbook.

The room was adorned with rich, dark colors, such as deep burgundy and nightshade purple. The walls were decorated with tapestries walls are decorated with tapestries depicting tales of triumph and conquest, reminding him of his family's noble heritage. A large canopy bed, draped in luxurious velvet curtains, stood as the centerpiece of the room. On one side, a wooden desk with intricate carvings provided a place for him to indulge in his clever strategizing and ambitious plans.

But today, he wasn't planning anything.

He sighed deeply and rubbed his head as he leaned back in his chair. There was a knock.

"Come in," he said. The door opened and Elaerys stood in the doorway.

His eyes softened, "can't sleep either?" She shook her head as she walked over to him.

He stood up and hugged her.

"I miss her," she said quietly. "I know... I miss her too," he sighed softly. The two pulled away and Elaerys sat on the bed while Malaenarr sat back down in his chair. He rubbed his head.

It had certainly been a long night for the Fireheart family.

"We should try and get some sleep, Hāedar," Malaenarr said, "I'll escort you back to your room."

Elaerys nodded before she got up. He gently took her hand and the two walked out of the room.

The two walked down the hallway and over to the door.

"Goodnight, Lēkia," Elaerys said softly. He kissed her head and opened the door to her room.

Soft hues of pastel pink and lavender adorned the walls, creating a calming atmosphere. Delicate floral patterns could be found on the curtains and bedspread, adding a touch of gentle elegance. A cozy nook by the window invited Elaerys to indulge in her love for reading, with shelves filled with books of various genres. A vanity with a large mirror allowed her to take solace in her solitude.

"Night, Hāedar," he smiled sadly. She walked into her room and she closed the door behind her. Her shoulders trembled and she hurried to the bed. She collapsed onto it, burying her face in the pillow as she silently cried.

Malaenarr sighed softly and he walked back to his room before he saw a figure. He narrowed his eyes and he tensed up.

"Who's there?" He demanded. "I-it's only me, Malaenarr," Haelyra replied quickly.

"Oh," he said, "sorry, auntie." "It's alright. You should be asleep," she replied. Malaenarr nodded a little before he noticed that his aunt donned a cloak.

He frowned, "did you go out?" "That doesn't concern you, nephew," she said sternly and he stared at her. He frowned deeply before he walked back to his room.

Haelyra watched him before she exhaled shakily and she shook her head before she hurried to her room. She opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind her.

She took in a deep breath to steady herself. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

'I... I just need to rest,' she thought, 'I need to rest.' She made her way over to the bed and sat down. She pressed her hands against her sides.

Sleep didn't come easy that night.

The morning came slowly. It had only been yesterday since Saelerys Fireheart's passing and House Fireheart was in a state of caution.

Malaenarr stood in the throne room, gazing at the throne before him. He frowned and crossed his arms.

He shook his head and Rhaenerys walked over to him.

"How are you feeling, son?" She asked softly.

"I... I'm not sure," he answered. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he leaned into her.

"I'm scared and sad," he said quietly, frowning, "I just... I never thought Grandmother would pass. And Elaerys and I had never met our grandfather."

"Malaenarr," Rhaenerys said, gently holding his shoulders, "let me tell you this and listen carefully. You and your sister are loved and important to your father and I. And you will always be the light of our lives. Forever."

Malaenarr stared at her before he hugged her tight. Sbe immediately hugged him back.

Haelyra sat in her bedchambers, nervously biting her nails. She felt sweat run down her forehead and she let out a trembling sigh.

She nearly jumped when there was a knock at the door.

"Lady Haelyra?"

She quickly relaxed when she heard Sanya Greystark's voice. She got up and walked over to the door and opened.

A thirty-two year old woman stood in front of her. She had limestone skin, red-orange hair and green eyes. She wore a white and blue dress.

"S-Sansa," Haelyra murmured. "Are you alright, milady?" Sansa asked, a worried look on her face. She yelped when Haelyra grabbed her arm and pulled her into her chambers before she quickly closed the door.

Sansa stumbled a little and she looked at Haelyra, bewildered.

"Lady Haelyra?" She said worriedly. "I-I need to t-talk to you about s-something," Haelyra stammered, fidgeting. Sansa furrowed her eyebrows and she helped her sit down.

"Breathe," she said, "what happened?"

Haelyra looked away.

"I... I think I'm going to have a child," she choked out. Sansa widened her eyes and she stared at Haelyra.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Who... who's the father?" She asked nervously. Haelyra looked at her and Sansa was about to ask again only for her eyes to widen.

She stood up, "Norrick?! The bartender?!" "Will you keep your voice down?!" Haelyra hissed, waving her hands frantically.

The two women looked at the door.

A few seconds passed before Sansa looked at Haelyra. "We have to tell your brothers," she said.

"N-no! Not yet," Haelyra said nervously. Sansa furrowed her eyebrows, "my lady, they will not hate you. And I doubt they would care about the father."

"You don't understand. I am a Fireheart royal," Haelyra gripped her head, "Vaelarr married Rhaenerys and she's from a different house, Lucaelon married Alymera and she's from the Far North. And I... made love with Norrick because I was grieving," she let out a bitter, nervous laugh, "oh, how Mother and Father could see me. Whoring myself out to a commoner!"

Sansa gripped her hands, "Haelyra!"

The two stared at each other.

"Do you love him?" Sansa asked with a frown. "I... wh-what?" Haelyra whispered, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Do you love him?" Sansa repeated, her tone almost venomous. Haelyra swallowed and she gave a weak nod, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

"Words, milady," Sansa said, her eyes softening. "Y-yes," she replied, "yes, I love him. But I don't want him to die. If my brothers found out that we made love... who knows what would happen?"

"They would not punish you for it," Sansa said sternly, "and they will certainly not punish the new life you carry. I will make sure of that. But you have to tell your brothers that they're going to be uncles; I'm sure they would at least appreciate that."

Haelyra nodded weakly and she took a breath. "Th-thank you, Sansa," she said, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Most likely something more drastic than this," Sansa replied lightheartedly. Haelyra chuckled and nodded. She pushed herself to her feet. Sansa followed her and the two walked out of the bedchamber.

In the council room, Vaelarr, Lucaelon and Asten sat in the chairs. Lucaelon tapped his fingers against the table with impatience.

"They are late," he hissed.

"Have patience, brother," Vaelarr said calmly, "our Houses' kingdoms aren't exactly close as one would expect."

Lucaelon huffed as the doors opened. Three men walked into the room, all donning royal attire.

The first man was fifty-one. He had chestnut brown skin and black hair that reached his shoulders and he had dark brown eyes. He wore a long, flowing ebony cloak adorned with intricately embroidered thorny black roses in dark purple thread, representing his House's sigil.

The cloak was fastened with a silver brooch in the shape of a coiled serpent, symbolizing his cunning nature. Underneath, he donned a tailored doublet in deep shades of black and purple, embellished with subtle silvery patterns that caught the light just so. Matching trousers of fine black velvet completed the ensemble, tucked into polished black leather boots.

He was Lord Alistair of House Shadowthorn.

The second man was twenty-nine and he had short blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. His royal attire reflected his mastery of naval warfare and his House's affinity for storms.

He wore a regal cloak woven with threads of silver and seafoam green, representing the crashing waves and thunderous storms of his seas. The cloak was adorned with delicate golden lightning bolt patterns, emphasizing his connection to the skies.

Beneath the cloak, he favored an intricately crafted suit of armor, polished to a brilliant shine, with a gilded breastplate featuring wave motifs. His helmet bore a crest in the shape of a stylized storm cloud, denoting his status as the ruler of House Stormrune.

His name was King Elandor of House Stormrune.

The last man was the same age as Lucaelon. He had limestone skin, black hair with gray strands and blue eyes.

He wore a resplendent suit of armor forged from blackened steel, adorned with intricate engravings of ravens and gauntlet motifs. The armor's chest plate featured his House's sigil—a black raven clutching a silver gauntlet—rendered in detailed relief. A crimson velvet cloak, trimmed with golden patterns depicting rampant lions, flowed from his broad shoulders.

His helmet, crafted in the shape of a raven's skull, signifies both his dominance in battle and his connection to his House.

He was King Gethin of House Ironclaw.

"Lord Alistair," Vaelarr greeted with a respectful nod, "King Elandor, King Gethin."

"King Vaelarr, Lord Lucaelon," Lord Alistair nodded. "Shall we begin this meeting?" King Gethin asked.

Vaelarr stared for a moment before he nodded again. "We shall." He glanced at the door and he saw Elaerys. Lord Alistair, King Gethin and King Elandor looked at her.

"Elaerys," Vaelarr said, his voice softening. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He looked to Asten.

"A-apologies," Elaerys said softly, "I just... wanted to see if you were okay, Father."

Alistair glanced at Vaelarr. He smiled sadly, "I am fine. Run along now."

Elaerys glanced at Asten and her eyes narrowed slightly before she nodded her head and walked out of the room. The doors closed behind her with a loud creak.

"I am sorry for your loss, my king," Alistair said, "I am also sorry for not arriving sooner to express my condolences in person."

Vaelarr was silent for a moment, "Queen Salaerys was an amazing queen and a wonderful mother. Your condolences are appreciated, old friend."

Asten narrowed his eyes a little.

"Shall we begin this meeting?" Gethin asked calmly. "We shall," Vaelarr replied.

Elaerys walked down the hall to the courtyard before she saw Malaenarr sitting in the courtyard's gardens. She tilted her head curiously and walked over to her brother.

"Malaenarr?" Elaerys called out softly, her voice barely carrying through the gentle breeze. Malaenarr turned his head towards his sister, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and longing.

"Elaerys," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Join me, won't you?" he gestured towards the bench beside him.

Elaerys nodded and settled down next to him, her eyes scanning the vibrant flowers that surrounded them. The sweet scent of blooming roses filled the air, providing a momentary respite from their grief.

Silence enveloped them, the weight of their loss hanging heavily in the air. The siblings sat side by side, finding solace in their shared understanding of one another's pain.

"I miss her laugh, her guidance," Elaerys broke the silence, her voice tinged with sorrow. "She was always there for us, Malaenarr. It feels as though a part of my soul has been torn away."

Malaenarr reached out and gently took Elaerys' hand in his, his grip comforting and steady. "I understand, Hāedar," he whispered, using the endearment he had given her when they were younger. "Just remember, we still have each other. Our bond is unbreakable, and together, we will find a way to honor our family's legacy and make our ancestors proud."

Hāedar, as they both knew it, was more than just a nickname. It symbolized the deep connection between them, forged through trials and shared experiences. It was a reminder of the unwavering support they provided one another in times of darkness.

Elaerys leaned her head against her brother's shoulder, finding comfort in his presence. "Thank you, Malaenarr," she murmured, her voice muffled against his tunic. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Malaenarr, always the protector, pressed a gentle kiss on Elaerys' forehead. "We will get through this, together. And we'll make sure that our House remains strong, an indomitable force in the realm," he vowed, determination gleaming in his eyes.

As the siblings sat together in the peaceful garden, the weight on their shoulders felt a little lighter. In the midst of their grief, a glimmer of hope emerged – a resolve to carry their family's legacy forward, weaving their own tales of triumph and honor.