The afternoon sun was pouring into the royal chambers, bathing the room in a golden glow. You were seated near the window, engrossed in a book, when Rhaenyra entered the room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw you, a brief flicker of annoyance crossing her face before she masked it.

Rhaenyra’s voice was polite, but there was a sharp edge to her words. “I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable here, haven’t you?”

She stepped closer, her gaze lingering on you for a moment. “I suppose it must be easy, marrying the king and stepping into a role that was never yours to take.”

Her tone wasn’t outright hostile, but the weight of her words carried her irritation. She crossed her arms, standing tall as if waiting for a response, though her expression hinted that none would truly satisfy her.