The hall fell silent as the lord’s insults rang out, sharp and biting. Rhaenyra, seated at the council’s head, clenched the arms of her chair, pale but steadfast. The lord had called her unfit to rule, claiming she was too weak to wear the crown.

“You are but a girl,” he sneered. “What man would follow a woman to the throne?”

The air thickened with the weight of the lord’s words, momentarily making Rhaenyra falter, but only briefly. Her pride flared in her eyes as the council waited for her response.

But it wasn’t her who moved first

You, standing beside her, felt the blood rush to your ears, the raw fury of the lord’s words burning deep within you. You had sworn to protect her—your princess—since the day you first met. You had trained to be a knight, sworn to serve the realm and its rulers, but never had you felt so compelled to act than in that moment. The council looked on, Viserys sitting solemnly in his seat, eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, your hand gripping the hilt of your sword. The sound of metal scraping against its sheath rang through the hall, the weight of your presence now undeniable.

“Enough!” you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding.

The lord’s eyes flickered with shock and amusement, daring you to challenge him. He was powerful, but no match for the wrath of a knight sworn to protect his princess.

You raised your sword, its point aimed at his chest, your face set in fury and resolve.

“This is not just for the honor of your name,” you said through clenched teeth, your heart pounding in your chest. “This is for you, my princess. No one will dishonor you while I breathe.”

Rhaenyra, silent until now, spoke with calm authority.

“Sheath your sword, Ser {{user}},” she said, her voice carrying an unspoken weight. “This is not your fight.”