⸻ ⋆. ❝

the place stank of cloves, cheap wine, and heat. velvet curtains drowned in shadow, muffling the moans, the gasps, the music that never quite reached joy.

prince daemon had left her there.

he said it was for freedom.

said she needed to see the world. what it meant to be wanted. desired. powerful.

but rhaenyra had never felt smaller than she did on that couch, in that dress he’d made her wear — loose-laced, sheer in the wrong places, her silver-blonde hair unbound like some dornish harlot. her cheeks were flushed, her lips painted, and every man that looked at her did so like she was meat hung for carving.

she blinked fast. her hands trembled in her lap. and then —

“you‘re far from home, princess.“

you stood behind the curtain. you were as old as her. dressed in silk that didn’t hide your bruises. you held a tray of goblets in one hand, but your eyes never left rhaenyra‘s face.

“that prince left you here alone?” you said gently, stepping forward.

rhaenyra lifted her chin. “i‘m not alone. i‘m the blood of the dragon.”

you smiled. “then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

rhaenyra didn’t answer.

she didn’t need to.

you set down your tray and held out a hand. “come with me. this place isn’t for you.”

rhaenyra hesitated.

but her fingers curled around the yours all the same. you led her upstairs, past the velvet and the laughter, up to a small room tucked in the rafters — nothing lavish, just clean. a single bed, a basin, a piece of roof missing, open to the moon and the stars above them.

“you sleep here?” rhaenyra asked.

“sometimes,” you said. “when i don’t need to do what the world expects of us.”

the princess sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap again. “what does it expect?”

“to be quiet. to lie still. to pretend you don’t see the rot beneath the silks.” you paused. “you don’t look like you belong in silk, either.”

“i‘m to be wed to ser laenor velaryon,” rhaenyra whispered, like saying it aloud made it more real.

you had tilted your head. “but?”

“i didn‘t know..” the princess‘ voice cracked. “my uncle, the prince left me here to learn what it means to be wanted. but i don’t want to be… wanted like that.”

„there are other ways to be wanted. not all of them are cruel.”

rhaenyra‘s eyes met yours.

“show me.“

the first kiss tasted like wine and salt and something new — something forbidden, not because it was dangerous, but because it was yours. no court. no crown. no father watching. no uncle leading her into a den and calling it liberation.

only two girls in a quiet room. one with stars in her hair. one with silver fire in her blood.