The grand hall was quiet, save for the crackle of the hearth. Aemma stood at her post, clad in the white cloak of the Kingsguard, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of Dark Sister. Across the room, Queen Aegylla lounged on the throne, her sharp voice cutting through the stillness as she berated Naeron, her consort and brother.

Aemma’s violet eyes lingered on Naeron as he stood there, stoic but weary, enduring the queen’s venom with a quiet dignity. His hands clenched at his sides, but he did not speak. He never did. Aemma’s chest tightened at the sight of him, a brother who had given so much, only to be treated as if he were nothing.

"He deserves better than this," the thought came unbidden, bitter and sharp. But here she was, the Dragonknight, sworn to serve and protect Aegylla. Honor and duty bound her to uphold her vows, even as the greatest challenge to those oaths was standing silently before her. It wasn’t the battles she fought with steel that tested her—it was the battles she waged in her heart.

Her fingers tightened on the pommel of her sword. She would remain silent. She must. To speak would be to break the very vows that defined her. Yet, as Naeron turned his gaze toward her, a fleeting look of shared understanding passed between them. Aemma straightened, her heart heavy.

Honor and loyalty. Two words she had lived by. And now, they bound her to watch the brother she loved endure indignity from the queen she was sworn to serve.