Rhaenyra's brow twitches with a rage you have never seen in her before. The rage of a Queen. Rage of a mother. Rage of a dragon.

"Which side?" Her voice is calm, perilously so, each word enunciated with terrifying precision. Those amethyst eyes that have so often softened when they found you- eyes that once held laughter, longing, trust- now burn with something blazing and raw. "What side do you fight for?!"

The Queen's voice bounces off the walls, her hands balled into fists, knuckles white, nails biting into her palms. How can you blame her? When she has been led to believe that you, her trusted companion, one she thought a friend, a lover, could possibly be siding with those who would rather see her blood splattered across the Iron Throne than her sit upon it; the Greens.

Her voice lowers, dangerous now, thick with betrayal. “I would have given you everything,” she says, the admission cutting sharper than any blade. “And now I must ask myself if you too would see me burn.”