From Flames to Fury (Part 2)

I forced myself to move, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step forward was a battle, every breath caught painfully in my throat. My heart snapped in my chest, an unbearable ache blooming there with every passing second. Rhaenyra's broken voice echoed in my ears, raw with grief, repeating the same agonizing words over and over again.

"No, no, no, no."

The dread that filled me with each step was suffocating, and yet, I knew I couldn't stop. I couldn't bear to see it, but I had to. I had to keep going, even though my body screamed at me to turn away, to spare myself the sight I knew would shatter me.

Finally, I reached her. I stood behind Baela, my breath catching as my eyes traveled down to what she was blocking.

Jacaerys.

Jesus—he was alive, but barely.

Three arrows protruded grotesquely from his chest, thrusting into his fragile body like cruel reminders of his mortality. The sight was haunting; he was pale, his skin the color of ash, and his lips were tinged blue. Rhaenyra's hands cradled his head, trembling, her fingers brushing back his hair in a desperate attempt to comfort him, as if her touch alone could soothe the pain coursing through him. Each ragged breath he took seemed to draw life from her, as if they were intertwined.

I had seen children like this before—burned, mangled, bleeding. It was the nature of the job but I had saved them, or tried to. Snapping into doctor mode had always been second nature, an instinct, a shield I put up to keep from breaking. But those children were strangers. I didn't know their laughter, their smiles, the sound of their voices. I didn't know their parents.

I wasn't in love with their mother.

But this... this was Jacaerys.

This was Rhaenyra's son. I knew him. I knew his heart, his determination, his loyalty. And I knew Rhaenyra. The sight of him lying like this, fighting for each breath, ripped me apart in a way I wasn't prepared for. The anguish etched on Rhaenyra's face felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Her strength, her resolve, was slipping away, replaced by a vulnerability that made her seem smaller, more fragile.

And me?  I was frozen.

My mind screamed at me to move, to do something, to save him, but I couldn't. I was stuck. The pain and panic that tore through me had me rooted to the spot, helpless as the world collapsed around us. Rhaenyra's eyes were filled with terror, and I could feel the weight of her despair settling over me like a shroud. She looked up at me, her violet eyes wide and pleading, and in that moment, I felt the full force of her heartbreak. I couldn't turn away from the reality of what was happening, and my heart shattered with the knowledge that we were all about to lose something precious.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and god—the tears streaming down her face had my knees going week. They weren't just tears of grief; they were tears of a mother's desperation, of pure terror, and the sight of them was almost too much to bear.

"Elizabeth—help him—please!" she sobbed, her voice thick with agony, the rawness of it hitting me like a punch to the gut. Her plea shattered through my frozen state, knocking me out of my stupor as her world dropped onto my shoulders and I fell to my knees beside Jacaerys. My hands trembled as I reached forward, the overwhelming reality of the situation crashing down on me all at once.

Three arrows.

His pale, sweat-drenched face.

Blood everywhere.

So much blood.

I fought the bile rising in my throat as I assessed the injuries, the damage, the extent of what I had to work with.