Rhaenyra knew she had crossed the line when minutes ago she slapped Lord Bartimos Celtigar in the face. But in her defense, she was exhausted. Exhausted by everyone contradicting her decisions as queen and not respecting her. Even her own son, her heir, dared to contest and challenge her in front of the small council. If not even her allies feared her, how could her enemies?

After reading about Visenya, the warrior queen, Rhaenyra felt inspired. She was determined to do anything to change the way others saw her, and why not start by learning to stand up for herself? She pulled a sword from the table, the weight of the steel making it hang down a little as she wielded it. It was heavier for her delicate hands than she expected.

"Do you even know how to use this?" A familiar voice echoed in the room, and the queen quickly lowered her weapon, turning in the direction of the sound. It was her aunt, leaning against the doorstep. She had a quizzical smile and a raised eyebrow.

Viserys and Daemon's younger sister was the embodiment of everything Rhaenyra wanted to be now; strong, independent, respected and a warrior. The woman was like her mother Alyssa and a female version of Daemon, a warrior trapped in a woman's body.

"I was just testing." Rhaenyra snapped, a little embarrassed at being caught.

Her aunt smiled and pushed herself away from the door, walking over to Rhaenyra and stopping right behind her. Her hand closed around the queen's arm, helping her grip the sword again and keep it balanced in the air.

"That's how you hold a sword." she whispered, her warm breath tickling against Rhaneyra's neck as her aunt ran her fingers up her arm, to her wrist.