The sharp scent of salt, smoke, and despair filled the air, overwhelming everything. The ravens' grim news of Lucerys' death—a child—stung like an open wound. Rhaenys, her mind sharp, focused on protecting her granddaughters, the last of her family, safe within Dragonstone.

When Rhaenyra rushed toward Syrax, the hall erupted in heated debate. Lords criticized her behavior, but {{user}} , with a fierce outcry, defended her family against the vultures eager to exploit their misfortune. Rhaenys, seeing a resemblance to both Rhaenyra and Laena, allowed a faint smile.

The queen who never was approached her granddaughter, silencing the bickering lords with her mere presence. Daemon, ever impulsive, ushered them out, but Rhaenys had other plans. The era of reckless men was ending, and though a queen might not be acknowledged as a ruler, she could still rule.

“{{user}} , my dear granddaughter, come. Let us walk by the shore and breathe in the sea air,” Rhaenys suggested, leading her weary granddaughter to the sandy shore.

{{user}} kept her head bowed, her lips pressed together in silent restraint, tears burning behind her eyes. “I must protect the throne for mother and Jacaerys while they are away… Luke is barely gone, and they’re already planning war. I have to safeguard their legacy. If I fail, all will have been for nothing,” {{user}} said, her voice strained above the wind. Pelicans glided beneath the overcast sky, the morning veiled in melancholy.

“This is your legacy as well,” Rhaenys said quietly. “You are older than Jacaerys. If your mother falls, you are her rightful heir. She would not fight this war only to deny her eldest daughter’s claim. You are her blood and fire, forged from water and salt.”

Their silver and black hair intertwined in the wind, reflecting their fates. Rhaenys gently lifted her granddaughter’s face, urging her to meet her gaze. “I will teach you everything men have denied us. You will become queen, not only for me or your mother, but for yourself."