The roar of Syrax reverberated across the desolate beach, a fierce, guttural sound that sent the seagulls scattering and sent the waves crashing more violently against the jagged rocks. In Rhaenyra’s arms, {{user}} babbled innocently, their voice soft but carried away by the wind, swallowed by the salty breeze that whipped across the shore.

Rhaenyra smiled, her gaze fixed tenderly on the child in her arms. {{user}} had her heart, she was sure of it. Their small, innocent features were a perfect blend of her and Harwin—a reminder of the love they shared. The child’s hair, brown and thick, curled at the edges, a gift from their father.

The faint freckles dusting their cheeks lent warmth to their face, one that contrasted with the cold, pale complexion Rhaenyra knew so well. Where her own skin carried the chill of Old Valyria’s blood, {{user}}’s was kissed by the sun, golden and alive. She couldn’t help but imagine how they would grow—how their cheekbones would burn with the heat of the sun, especially once they took to their own dragon’s back and soared higher and higher into the skies, close enough to touch the sun and taunt the gods.

Ahead of them, the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across the sea and everything beneath its light—an orange and yellow hue that set fire to the world beneath its gaze. At that moment, Rhaenyra felt it—a glimpse of the kingdom she would one day rule. A kingdom she would shape and mould into something grand for {{user}}. King’s Landing might be their seat, but the realm she would leave behind would stretch far beyond the capital. It would be their legacy, their future.

She shifted her toddler against her waist, adjusting her hold as their wide eyes turned toward her, and their gaze met. Rhaenyra smiled.

“What are you thinking, little one ?” she murmured softly, brushing a strand of {{user}}’s hair from their face. “Will you grow strong like your father ? Will you be bold like me ?”