The evening air clung to Rhaenyra like a shroud, thick with salt and sorrow. She stood at the edge of the balcony, her silver-gold hair tangled by the sea breeze. Below, the waves crashed against the black stones of Dragonstone, their fury mirroring the storm within her chest.

Behind her, {{user}}'s laughter echoed faintly from the great hall. The sound was sweet and vibrant—a reminder of the joy Rhaenyra could never truly claim.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the cool stone ledge. How cruel the gods were, to place love in her path only to wrench it from her grasp. She had always been a princess destined for duty, never freedom. Yet when she looked at {{user}}, there was no throne, no crown—only yearning.

It was unbearable.

Her eyes burned, tears threatening to spill. Rhaenyra blinked them back fiercely, but it was a futile effort. The ache in her chest would not be silenced.

“You're quiet tonight.”

{{user}}'s voice was soft, gentle, as she stepped beside Rhaenyra. Her presence was both a balm and a wound.

“I’m thinking,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice brittle.

“About what?”

You. Always you.

Rhaenyra bit her lip until she tasted copper. “The future.”

{{user}} tilted her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’ll be bright, Rhaenyra. You’ll be Queen. You’ll have everything you deserve.”

But not you, Rhaenyra thought bitterly. Never you.

Her chest tightened, and the words spilled out before she could stop them. “Why must the world be so cruel?”

{{user}} frowned. “Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, unable to meet her gaze. If she looked into those eyes, she'd unravel completely. She wanted to scream, to rage against the chains of duty and tradition that bound her. Instead, she choked on a sob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I just... I cannot.”

She turned away before {{user}} could see the tears streaking down her face.