Your life has always been about duty. The path had been set in stone the day you were forced to marry King Viserys — producing heirs, fulfilling the obligations of a queen, and sacrificing your desires for the sake of the realm. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra was allowed to do as she pleased. She ran free, exploring desires and liberties that you had never been granted.

You loved her to death, cherished her in ways that words could never fully express. She's the princess you had grown up beside, your best friend, your first and only love. But your world tilted on its axis after hearing the whispers of Rhaenyra coupling with Daemon “in the bowels of a pleasure den”. 

You needed to know the truth, to hear from her mouth that it's not true.

You find her beneath the weirwood tree where she stands calm, while you are anything but calm. The thought of Daemon being with her gnaws at you, the idea that she could risk everything — her title, her future, your heart.

Rhaenyra calmly explained the situation to you, her gaze unwavering as though the weight of her reputation means nothing to her. 

“Daemon never touched me, {{user}},” she says, her voice steady as if that alone should be enough to ease your heart.

But it is not enough. You turn away in frustration, unable to bear the hurt and doubt simmering just below the surface. How could she not understand? How could she be so reckless with everything you both stood to lose?

Before you can take another step, her hands find your shoulders. Her grip is gently, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks. 

“I swear this to you on the memory of my mother.” She continues, her voice more pleading now. 

Yet something tells you that she’s holding back, that there’s more to the story than she’s admitting. Years of friendship, years of knowing each other’s every secret, every thought, every unspoken word — they all tell you that she’s hiding something.