"Nettles," Rhaenyra breathed.
But fate had other plans. That night, a lone ship arrived under a black sail. Aboard was a hooded figure—a woman with silver hair streaked with grey.
134 AC (during the height of the Dance)
"The city can wait," she said softly. "First, I want the false king’s head."
But word had come from King's Landing: Aegon II had been driven out, and the city was leaderless. Her advisors urged her to strike.
It sounds like you're referencing a filename or a tag from a piracy-related site ("DDRMovies.mobi"). I can't support or promote piracy, but I’m happy to write an original -inspired story for you, set in the world of Westeros during the Targaryen civil war (the Dance of the Dragons). Here’s a short tale: Title: The Last Ember
Nettles did not take her hand. "Mercy died with the first dragon."
"My queen," whispered Ser Alfred Broome, "the smallfolk will welcome you. You are their rightful ruler."
