From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

I woke up the next morning feeling unusually well-rested. The gentle sound of the sea outside lulled me back toward sleep. Usually, my sound machine played rain, but the ocean waves were a soothing substitute. I couldn't remember the last time I slept so soundly. I had the craziest dream about dragons, Westeros, and the Dragon Queen.

I sighed, longing to drift back into the dream—to Rhaenyra. But reality waited for no one, and I had to get up soon for my shift at the hospital. Reaching for my phone on the end table, I found nothing. I searched blindly, moving my hand across the comforter while clinging to sleep.

Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the room.

My eyes shot open as I flung myself upright. I took in the unfamiliar surroundings: the room was adorned with rich tapestries, depicting intricate scenes of dragons and battles, and ornate wooden furniture carved with symbols of House Targaryen. The sound of wind gusting outside, like something was flying by, filled my ears. A shadow danced across the walls, followed by another mighty roar.

I looked to my left, toward the windows, and saw a dragon fly by. I stumbled to my feet and walked toward the window, letting out a shaky breath as I reached it. The rock was cool under my fingertips as stood against the windowsill, revealing the breathtaking view beyond.

The sunrise painted the sky in stunning colors over the vast ocean. The hues of pink, orange, and gold blended seamlessly, creating a breathtaking view. Flying through those colors were dragons. Five of them, varying in size and color, soared in a beautiful display that looked more like dancing than flying. Their scales shimmered in the morning light, each one unique and magnificent. They roared at each other, the sounds menacing yet somehow friendly, as if they were calling out in camaraderie.

It wasn't a dream.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and before I could respond, it opened. Two women, whom I could only describe as servants, entered the room carrying an array of garments.

"Good morning, Lady Elizabeth," said one of the women, her voice gentle but formal. "The Queen has sent for you, but she also realized that you likely did not have clothes to change into and has gifted you some wonderful dresses."

I turned to her, swallowing down my nervousness. Lady? That's a first.

I stepped forward, and spoke, "That is...," I paused, clearing my throat as I looked down at the intricate dressings and undergarments in the woman's hands. "Very kind of the Queen," I finished, eyeing the dresses with helplessness. I couldn't remember the last time I wore a dress, besides yesterday, of course. Maybe a couple of years ago, at a coworker's wedding? I lived in my scrubs, and when I wasn't in my scrubs, I wore sweatpants at home. If I had to go in public, it was either leggings or jeans.

I always prioritized comfort over beauty.

I stared down at the dresses, every one of them black. Was this some sort of image for me to display? She had me cover my face to the lords at the table. What was her plan for me?

I reached forward and touched the heavy fabric of the dress, mentally wincing at the corset and the thought of wearing it all day.

"I appreciate the Queen's kind gesture," I began hesitantly, my voice breaking the silence, "but you don't perhaps have anything less formal... like pants?"

The word seemed to hang in the air. The woman's eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape as she repeated the word, "Pants?" Her voice held a note of incredulity, as if the concept was completely foreign to her.

"Yes, pants and maybe a blouse?" I asked, hoping that was the right term for a shirt in this world.

I watched as the two servants exchanged another glance, their expressions a blend of bewilderment and curiosity. They seemed to be processing the idea, their eyes coming back to me and never leaving me as if waiting for further explanation or reassurance that this was indeed a serious request.