The palace was alive with whispers, the heavy stone walls echoing with the tension that filled every corner. You had just endured a cruel remark from one of Alicent’s children, their words sharp and biting: “Bastard.” The sting of their accusation lingered, gnawing at you as you wandered away from the gathering, feeling the weight of their judgment like a heavy cloak around your shoulders.

You found a quiet corner in the castle’s garden, your hands trembling as you tried to compose yourself. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the stone pathways when you felt a gentle hand on your back.

Turning, you looked up to find your mother, Rhaenyra, standing before you. Her silver-gold hair shimmered in the fading light, and her amber eyes held a deep understanding.

“Don’t listen to them,” Rhaenyra said softly, her voice filled with quiet strength as she pulled you into her arms. “The blood that runs through your veins is as true as mine, and their words do not define you. You are my child, and nothing will change that.”

She held you close, pressing her forehead gently to yours, her touch warm and reassuring. “You are strong, my love. Don’t let them make you doubt yourself.”