From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

The glow of the fire cast a warm, flickering light across the stone walls of my room, the soft crackling of wood the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. Our bodies were still humming with the remnants of desire that had followed us from the hot springs and into my bed.

Rhaenyra's naked form lay pressed against mine, her back snug against my chest as I held her from behind. The feeling of her skin beneath my hands, soft and warm, grounded me in a way I hadn't expected. Despite everything—her power, her authority, the storm of emotions that constantly surrounded her—she felt so incredibly small in this moment, wrapped in my arms, seeking the comfort of my embrace.

Rhaenyra had been relentless, her hands and lips exploring every inch of my body, pushing me to the edge over and over again until I was utterly undone beneath her. And I had returned the favor, teasing her until she had no choice but to surrender to the pleasure that coursed through her. The intensity of it all had left us breathless, tangled together in sheets that were still damp with sweat, our bodies pressed so closely that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began.

Now, with the fire's soft light casting a golden hue over our bare skin, there was no need for words. The silence between us was full, not of awkwardness or unease, but of the deep satisfaction that came with knowing you had given and taken everything the other had to offer.

I buried my face in the crook of Rhaenyra's neck, breathing in the scent of her—earthy, like the fire, but with a hint of something uniquely her. Her hair, damp from both the water and the exertion, clung to her skin, and I smiled against her shoulder, holding her a little tighter.

Rhaenyra, for all her strength and dominance, had let her guard down with me. There was something so incredibly sweet about it, about the way she had let me cradle her now, despite all her power, all her authority. She didn't need to be the queen in this moment—she was just Rhaenyra, a woman who wanted, who needed, the same things I did. The vulnerability in that was not lost on me.

"You're quiet," she murmured, her voice soft and slightly hoarse from everything we'd done.

I smiled into her shoulder. "Just thinking."

She turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the edge of her smile.

"About?"

I let out a soft laugh, nuzzling into her.

"About you," I admitted. "About us... about everything."

She hummed in response, her hand reaching down to gently brush across my fingers where they rested on her stomach. There was no need for anything more—no promises or declarations. In this moment, it was enough just to be, to exist in the quiet aftermath of what we had shared.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been, and if you found the answers you were seeking?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft, almost casual, like she was asking about the weather. There was no command in her tone, no demand for an explanation. She was simply asking—genuinely curious, almost tender.

But despite the ease in her question, I tensed. My body stiffened against hers, every muscle tightening instinctively, and Rhaenyra felt it immediately. She always did.

Her concern was instant. She turned to face me, her violet eyes narrowing slightly, searching my face with a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Elizabeth," she said, her voice quieter now, but edged with something deeper, more probing. "Where did you go?"

I swallowed hard, fighting the sudden rush of anxiety that twisted in my gut. The softness in her gaze shifted, replaced by a subtle, quiet authority that pressed on me like a weight. Rhaenyra never needed to raise her voice to command attention, and right now, the calm power behind her question was unmistakable.