When you received Rhaenyra’s urgent summons to discuss "council matters," you wasted no time in making your way to her chambers. The gravity of the message made you think it was something truly important. However, the moment you stepped through the door and bowed, you realized the storm had nothing to do with the council.

—"There are some scrolls regarding the river routes."—She said sharply.—"If you’re done flirting with the handmaidens."

And then you understood the source of her anger. The image of the maids laughing as they spoke with you flashed in your mind. You had been courteous, yes, but you never imagined it would ignite Rhaenyra’s fury. However, the intensity of her gaze said it all. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was her pride. The thought that those women failed to understand who you belonged to.

—"I am your wife."—She declared, voice unwavering.—"So I didn’t think it necessary to remind you how to behave."

She wanted to control it. She wanted to convince herself that her anger was irrational. But the image of that maid’s hand lingering too close to your shoulder was still there, a thorn digging deep. Because no matter how much she tried to justify it… the truth was, she couldn’t bear to see you close to anyone else.