From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression softening further as she seemed to relax in response to my hesitant agreement. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the far end of the room. I watched her go, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of her back as she moved with a quiet grace, her steps purposeful yet unhurried.

There was an unspoken intimacy in the air, a fragile thread connecting us as she stepped toward a stone bench near the edge of the pool.

She paused there, her back still to me, and for a moment, I thought she might say something more. But instead, she reached up, her hands finding the intricate braid that held her hair away from her face.

Slowly, almost methodically, she began to undo it, her fingers working through the tight weave with a practiced ease.

Jesus, there was something undeniably sensual about watching Rhaenyra undo her hair. The way the pale strands cascaded down her back, slipping free from the confines of the braid, was mesmerizing. I realized with a start that I had never seen her with her hair down before—not like this. Her hair had always been either braided back away from her face or pinned up entirely, the way one might expect of a queen who needed to project an image of control and authority at all times.

But now, as her hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, it made her seem more human, perhaps.

It was a side of Rhaenyra that I had never seen, a side that I wasn't sure many had seen.  I felt like a privilege.  The realization sent a shiver down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the cool air of the chamber. I could feel my heartbeat quickening, my breath catching in my throat as I continued to watch her in silence, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like a warm, protective cocoon.

Rhaenyra reached up again, her fingers finding the delicate lace that tied her dress together at the back. I watched, almost in slow motion, as she pulled the bow loose with a quiet grace, the intricate knot unraveling under her touch. The fabric of her dress slackened, the tension holding it against her frame easing as the lace loosened.

And suddenly, it hit me—I was watching her undress.

Like, really watching her undress.

I blinked, my mind scrambling to catch up with the situation. This was like gym etiquette 101: you don't watch the other woman undress, no matter how good they looked. It was a line you didn't cross, a rule ingrained in the social fabric of shared spaces, and yet here I was, breaking it like an absolute creep.

I turned away quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, but not a second later, the soft rustle of fabric falling to the ground reached my ears. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the chamber, a quiet, intimate noise that seemed to hang in the air, blending with the gentle melody of the lapping water.

It was such a simple sound, yet it carried with it the weight of the moment—the vulnerability, the trust, the unspoken tenstion between us.

I stared down at my boot covered feet trying to drown out the awareness of what was happening behind me. But it was impossible to ignore, my mind filling in the details I refused to let my eyes see. The tension in my body didn't ease; if anything, it coiled tighter, winding itself into a knot of anticipation and something I wasn't quite ready to name.

The sound of Rhaenyra slipping into the water, the soft splash as her body disturbed the surface, seemed to reverberate through the chamber, amplifying the tension that already thrummed in the air. Each ripple in the water sent a shiver of awareness through me, heightening the sense of proximity, of shared space—of the fucking temperature.

Was it always this hot in hear?

The heat in the room, already thick and oppressive, seemed to intensify, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. My skin was damp with sweat, every breath felt labored, each inhale and exhale sounding louder than it should. The thought of Rhaenyra, likely naked and just a few feet away, only added to the sensation of impending combustion. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound of it a steady drumbeat in my ears, and I felt a trembling in my hands that I couldn't quite control.