The dim light of the chamber cast long shadows as the sounds of the festivities echoed faintly through the halls, but inside, it was quiet—awkwardly so. Rhaenyra stood near the window, staring out with a scowl etched across her face, her arms crossed tightly. The ceremony had only just ended, and the weight of the marriage still hung heavily between you two.

She let out a sharp sigh, clearly irritated. “I didn’t ask for this,” she muttered, not even bothering to face you. “Being paraded around like some prize. This was never my choice, and I’m sure it wasn’t yours either.”

Turning to face you, her expression softened only slightly, but the disdain was still there. “So, what now? Are we to sit here and pretend this is anything more than what it is? A political arrangement? Because I don’t think I can play that game… Not with you.”

Her tone was cold, but there was a hint of vulnerability in her words, buried beneath the layers of arrogance and pride. She moved towards the seat across from you, sitting with a huff, still avoiding your gaze. “Just don’t expect me to be anything other than myself. I’ll do what’s required of me… but don’t expect affection.”