From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

The morning light streamed through the narrow windows as I quietly exited the room, the events of the previous night still swirling in my mind. My lips still tingled faintly from our final kiss, and I could feel the ghost of Rhaenyra's fingers on my skin, as though the tension and heat between us hadn't fully faded. We had ended things on a far better note than I could have ever dreamed of. My heart still fluttered with the memory of her tender words, the way she held me even through her anger, and how she pulled me close when I feared she would push me away.

But despite the peace we had found, a gnawing sensation tugged at my stomach, the knowledge of just how close I had come to losing her. One wrong word, one misstep, and it all could have unraveled. The thought of losing Rhaenyra, of everything crumbling between us, sent an uncomfortable pang through my gut. I had seen the fragility of the moment when she hesitated, and it reminded me that nothing here—none of this—was guaranteed. The war was still on the horizon, and everything between us was still so fragile.

I made my way down the stone corridors, heading towards the council chambers where I typically found Rhaenyra in the mornings, reviewing strategies and preparing for what lay ahead. My steps were quick, my thoughts distracted by what had transpired between us. The way her hands gripped me, the way she kissed me... it was more than I could have hoped for.

But as I approached the large wooden doors to the council room, I was surprised to find it empty. The room, usually buzzing with conversation and strategy, was eerily silent. I looked around, confusion flickering through me.

Where was everyone?

The council chambers were eerily quiet, the usual hustle of voices and rustling papers absent. I glanced around the empty room, the massive table vacant, the sunlight filtering in through the tall windows casting an almost serene glow over the space. It felt wrong—this place, usually alive with tension and strategy, was now utterly still. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. It wasn't like Rhaenyra to change plans without a word, and after last night, I had expected to see her here, deep in discussion, perhaps sparing me a private smile across the table.

Before I could contemplate further, I caught movement in the hallway behind me, a flash of white in the corner of my vision. Turning, I saw the unmistakable figure of a Queensguard, his white cloak flowing as he walked past the doorway. He paused when he saw me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he regarded me with a neutral, unreadable expression, his posture stiff and formal.

"Council meetings are to be held after training now, by order of the Queen," he said, his voice steady, echoing slightly in the empty hall.

"Training?" I repeated, blinking in confusion. The night before had been a whirlwind—between the blush-worthy moments we'd been caught up in, the heated argument, and the way we'd eventually found our way back to each other, there hadn't been time to discuss anything as mundane as logistics. I hadn't known training was happening today, let alone what training even was. 

The Queensguard gave a curt nod, his gaze steady but unreadable. "Yes, my lady. The Queen has sent for you. I am to bring you to training now."

I blinked again, still trying to make sense of it.

"Training? With the Queen?"

The words felt foreign as they left my mouth.

The Queensguard inclined his head, his tone unyielding. "That is correct."

I hesitated for a moment, my mind still struggling to reconcile this sudden shift. Last night, everything had felt so raw, so personal, and now, suddenly, I was being called to observe—or perhaps even join—Rhaenyra in training? The sudden pivot made me uneasy, but curiosity sparked within me as well.