From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

I gritted my teeth as I drew my sword from its sheath, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light of the room. With a determined thrust, I lodged it into the ground, securing it beneath the door handle. I wasn't taking any risks staying in Harrenhal without some precaution.

I tested the door handle, twisting it gently to ensure it wouldn't budge. Satisfied, I brushed my fingers over the cool wood, fighting the urge to rest my forehead against it. Pain pulsed at the back of my head, a relentless reminder of the turmoil that had gripped me since leaving Dragonstone.

Even in times of peace, I had seen the toll the crown took on my father—the way it wore him down, etching lines of worry into his face. But now, with the weight of war and betrayal looming over me, the crown felt like a leaden burden pressing down on my soul.

Flashes of the dead in that village haunted me, their faces a grim parade in my mind. The lifeless eyes of that little boy staring up at the sky were an image I could not shake. Daemon's smirk flickered before me, that infuriating blend of arrogance and carelessness. Anger swelled within me, a hot flame threatening to consume my resolve. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands for the chaos he had unleashed, for the innocent lives lost in the name of his ambition.

I took a deep breath, trying to ground myself. I couldn't afford to let my fury control me. I needed to be strategic, to think clearly amidst the storm of emotions raging within.

"Rhaenyra."

That voice pierced through my back, striking my heart like a dagger, making it lurch in my chest. I swallowed hard, fighting to control the tempest of emotions swirling within me before I turned to face her. I doubted it even mattered; Elizabeth could probably read my emotions without even seeing my face. Yet there remained a part of me—an instinctive urge to be strong for her, to embody the Queen she needed me to be, even if that meant guarding her against myself.

As I turned, the sight of her brought a rush of conflicting feelings. Elizabeth stood there, a mixture of concern and resolve etched on her features. Her green eyes, such a striking color, searched mine, and in that moment, I felt both exposed and fiercely protective. I knew the weight of what I carried, the burden of the crown and the chaos that had surrounded us, and I didn't want her to bear any of that, even though I knew she would gladly welcome the weight.

"Rhaenyra," she said again, her voice softening as she stepped closer, cradling the baby to her chest. The warmth of her presence wrapped around me like a lifeline, anchoring me in a moment that felt both fragile and heavy. I could see the worry etched across her features, the way her brow furrowed as her eyes flickered down to the sword lodged against the door before returning to meet my gaze. "Are we not safe here?"

A wave of despair washed over me. Every instinct in my heart and soul screamed that we were never safe. The specter of danger lingered like a shadow, ready to engulf us at any moment. I had faced treachery before, felt the sharp sting of betrayal, and the reality was clear: I—along with Elizabeth, the innocent child in her arms, my boys—would never truly be safe.

But as much as I wanted to scream it, to let out the frustration that clawed at my insides, I found myself paralyzed. The words lodged in my throat like a stone. The burden of leadership weighed heavily on my shoulders, a mantle I had accepted but never fully embraced. I was responsible for their safety, their well-being—how could I shatter their sense of security with my own fears?

Instead, I forced a smile, one that felt brittle and strained.

"We're safe, Dameon wouldn't dare move against me now," I said, my fighting to stay steady. "But it does not hurt to take extra precautions."

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Just being near her had a calming effect, soothing the storm of anxiety raging inside me. As I looked at her, I noticed a soot mark on her cheek. It pained me to see it, a symbol of the turmoil we just kept enduring.