Upon having an audience with her stepmother, Queen Rhaenyra, Rhaena found herself in a frenzy. For years, she had felt a gnawing sense of uselessness, the loss of her betrothed a wound that never fully healed. Now, being sent away to serve as a surrogate mother felt like a final, unbearable indignity. It was all too much for the girl—why couldn’t she be as perfect as Baela? The question tormented her, fueling her agitation as she paced around her room like a headless chicken.

The chamber, dimly lit by flickering candlelight, seemed to close in around her. Her thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. She replayed her conversation with Rhaenyra over and over, the queen’s composed demeanor a stark contrast to her own inner turmoil. The feeling of inadequacy gnawed at her, a relentless beast that refused to be tamed.

Suddenly, a knock on her chamber door interrupted her frantic pacing. The sound was both startling and grounding, pulling her back from the edge of her chaotic thoughts.

“Rhaena?” Your voice, gentle yet concerned, filtered through the heavy wooden door.

Rhaena stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a moment to compose herself, though the effort felt like trying to calm a storm with a whisper. “Come in.” she called, her voice betraying the turmoil within.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, your eyes immediately finding Rhaena’s. Her face was flushed with emotion, her eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight of her, usually so composed and strong, now so vulnerable, stirred a deep sense of empathy within you.