The Rogue Prince has lost his wife in a terrible accident which leaves him the option to remarry.
Lady Anastasia Tully is a kind girl from the Riverlands thrown into the mess of the dragon family - a mess she is trying so hard to avoid yet it seems...
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The gardens of Riverrun were peaceful. Flowers of every color blossomed around them, releasing sweet scents into the air. The sun was setting, Anastasia sat on a stone bench next to her mother, the quiet bubbling of a nearby fountain filling the silence between them. They often came here when they needed to talk, away from the eyes and ears of the castle's inhabitants.
Anastasia leaned back, allowing herself a moment to savor the serenity of home, while Amelia's hands worked deftly on an embroidery hoop, her fingers stitching a delicate pattern with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before.
"Your sister is quite excited," Amelia began, not looking up from her work. "Astrid will be officially wed to Samwell Blackwood in three years. She'll be six and ten by then, and the Blackwoods are eager for the match. It seems so soon, doesn't it?"
Samwell and Astrid had known each other since they were infants—it was as if the Blackwoods had planned their union from the moment they were born. If that was indeed the case, Anastasia thought, then they were finally getting what they had always wanted. There had always been rumors that her sister would end up marrying Samwell, and now it seemed those whispers had become reality.
Anastasia nodded, watching her mother closely. She could see the sadness in her mother's eyes, even though Amelia tried to mask it behind a smile. "It does feel soon," she agreed softly. "It seems only yesterday she was running around the castle, always getting into trouble." She smiled softly, remembering the days when Astrid had been a little girl trailing after her. "Astrid is still so young, barely more than a girl. And now she's to be a wife, a lady of another house. How quickly time passes."
"Yes, too quickly," Amelia agreed, pausing her stitching to look at her daughter. "It's the way of things, I suppose. Girls grow up, and before you know it, they're married off, building lives of their own." Her voice held a note of wistfulness, the kind that only mothers knew. "Soon, Astrid will be gone, and you... well, you're already gone most of the time, living in Dragonstone with your husband. My girls, both so far away." Amelia's voice wavered slightly, betraying the sorrow that lay beneath her composed exterior.
Anastasia reached over, placing a hand over her mother's. "Mother, I may live far, but I am always with you in spirit. And Astrid will visit, as will I. You won't be rid of us so easily." She attempted a lighthearted smile, but her eyes betrayed her understanding of the inevitable distance.
"I know," Amelia sighed, squeezing Anastasia's hand gently. "But it's not the same, is it? I raised you both, watched you grow from little girls into young women. The castle feels emptier without your laughter, without the sound of your footsteps in the halls. And now, it will be just your father and me. Riverrun is a grand place, but it is also lonely without my daughters."
Anastasia felt a lump form in her throat. She could see the quiet grief etched in the lines of her mother's face, the silent acceptance of a fate she couldn't change. "You have given us everything, Mother," she said softly. "You've raised us to be strong, to stand on our own. That's why we can leave. Because we carry the love you've given us wherever we go. You'll always be a part of us, no matter how far we are."
