From Flames to Fury (Part 2)

Chapter 4: Where I Belong

"I..." My voice trembled, thick with the weight of everything I couldn't say. The words lodged in my throat, tangled with fear, and the lingering remnants of Jonathan's abuse. Rhaenyra just looked at me, her violet eyes soft, waiting.

More tears spilled, but she didn't let go.

Rhaenyra's hand left my wrist and gently moved to cup my face. Her touch was soft, tender, as if she knew each tear that fell carried a piece of me—each one fragile and precious, deserving of care. She didn't brush them away with frustration or impatience, but with a kind of reverence that made my heart ache.

Her thumb grazed the path of a tear along my cheek, wiping it away with a gentleness I wasn't used to, as if she was holding something far more delicate than just the wetness of my grief. Her other hand followed, cradling my face between her palms. I couldn't stop the way my breath hitched, caught between the flood of emotions I didn't know how to control.

"Elizabeth," she whispered, her voice low and soothing, as if each word was meant to comfort the rawest parts of me. "You don't have to be afraid. Never with me."

Her words wrapped around me like a blanket, and I fought the instinct to pull away, to retreat into the walls I had built so high around my heart. But Rhaenyra wasn't giving me space to hide. She was looking at me, seeing me, and not shying away from the mess of emotions I was failing to hold back.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell her how much I wanted to believe her, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, all that came was another wave of tears, and as they fell, she didn't flinch. She just stayed there, brushing each one away, as if silently telling me that it was okay to fall apart—that I didn't need to be perfect in front of her.

Her touch was steady, and with each swipe of her thumb, it felt like she was stitching something back together inside me, piece by piece.

***

I woke up feeling like I hadn't just slept—I had recharged. One of those sleeps that completely overtakes you, leaving no room for dreams, no restless tossing and turning. The kind of sleep that makes you feel like you've been anchored in place, immovable, until morning comes and pulls you gently back to the world. For the first time in what felt like years, I had slept like a rock.

The next thing I noticed was the warmth. It was all around me, like a weighted blanket wrapping me in comfort, and then came the steady rhythm of a heartbeat under my ear. It was slow and soothing, grounding me in the present moment. I didn't move at first, just lay there, listening, feeling the rise and fall of breath beneath me.

My mind flashed to the night before—the way I had broken down, shattered completely, without warning. All of it had hit me at once. Jonathan, this brutal world that had swallowed me whole, the constant danger, the near-death experiences that seemed to follow me like a shadow. The whirlwind of gaining a daughter—something I had dreamed about for so long—and then falling in love with Rhaenyra. It was too much. I had been holding it all in for so long, telling myself I was fine, that I could handle it. Even back in my own world, I had never let myself truly feel. It was always about surviving the day, one step at a time, pushing everything else aside.

But last night... it was like that final drop of water hitting the surface before the dam breaks.

I shattered.

And Rhaenyra... god, she had been there. She had seen me unravel, piece by piece, and instead of recoiling, she led me to the couch, wrapped her arms around me, and held me through it. She didn't try to stop the flood, didn't tell me to pull myself together. She just was. She kissed my head, wiped away my tears, and whispered "my love" over and over like she was battling each one of my demons as they clawed at me. She stayed with me, grounding me, until I was completely drained. Until I felt safe. Only then had sleep finally claimed me.