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Lady Larena of House Achille was a true southern beauty.
'I do not lie.'
With golden hair and eyes that resembled stained glass, a heart that shone like the dornish sun and a mind sweeter than the flowers in Highgarden.
'I love you.'
She was kind and loving, but Rhaegar Targaryen broke her.
'Forgive me.'
She did indeed live up to the words of her house, for she did bring a war and by far it was greater than we could have imagined.
'Don't do this.'
Lady Larena is resting in small bed of silk in cased in marble, laying next to her lover, her murderer, her husband, prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
'Where is she.'
A young woman with stars in her eyes now plays among those very stars.
'Larena.'
She was taught to be a gentle. But she was like glass, fragile and ready to break.
'Dragons tell no lies.'
Lady Larena was kind and loving but something changed.
'Please don't leave me.'
