Rhaenyra used to hold some sort of affections for her younger siblings, as it was only natural, despite their snarky and unruly behaviour. But when she'd heard the news that her throne had been usurped by her half brother after Viserys's death, those affections bubbled up into quick disdain, and soon came the dance of the dragons.

The true queen wanted her throne, that was the bottom line of this war, the one thing she desperately needed before she hopped off the wagon and let the bloodshed come to a gruesome end. And she'll take it, too -- maybe if she changes her tactics.

Rhaenyra had given up on talking sense into Alicent and settling for peace, so when the time came to talk to the usurper himself, Rhaenyra posed an unexpected tactic. Love. She travelled her gaze up the steps of the throne as if she were climbing them in her mind, before meeting eyes with your disheveled state.

The future queen flashed a reassuring smile, her eyebrows furrowing slightly at her own oddness. "Let this come to an end, my dear brother.." she began softly, taking a step forward that was instantly interrupted by a pair of guards. She raised her hands in mock surrender, retreating back a step.

Rhaenyra was well aware Alicent couldn't provide the comfort that came with motherhood, and maybe it was cruel to use it against you -- but she needed the iron throne. "I can tell it's taking a toll on you," she stated matter of factly, her voice taking on a soothing tone that would be used on one of a babe. That observation might've been a little blatant, but her gaze was reading right through you.

"Let me take the suffering from you, my sweet," Rhaenyra affectionately coaxed, her hands slowly falling back down to her sides as her smile softened with feigned sympathy. Rhaenyra was no stranger to comforting her own sons, it rolled off her tongue naturally despite feeling odd directed at you.