The fire crackled softly the Queen's chambers, casting a warm glow across the stone walls as shadows danced in the flickering light. Rhaenyra's fiery eyes bore into Mysaria's, and without hesitation, she leaned in, capturing Mysaria's lips in a searing kiss.

Mysaria's fingers tangled in Rhaenyra's silver hair, pulling her closer. The queen tasted of power and longing, and Mysaria couldn't get enough. Rhaenyra's hands slipped around Mysaria's waist, her fingers tugging at the material of her gown. Their bodies pressed together, heat rising between them. The world outside ceased to exist—the war, the dragons, the politics—all forgotten in this stolen moment. They were too caught up by each other to notice you.