It was impossible to remember a full night's sleep she had ever had. Rhaenyra was troubled by her own mind, filled with a melancholy she had always known was there, somewhere in her. First her mother, then her father, then her daughter, then her son... She even lost her crown, the only right she had left after so much pain.

Rhaenyra felt as though her pain would never go away, time would only make it worse—with more losses and more pain between one war and the next. Her only luck was still having her children and you, oh, how safe she was in knowing you weren't gone yet when even Daemon was.

The only person capable of making her feel safe like no knight or dragon ever could, you. But, she had lost some of that as she grew up and focused more on her crown than the treasure that was right next to her, not that you blamed her. Maybe she wanted you to blame her somehow, like everyone was always doing.

And, once again, as fifteen years ago, as in all her teenage days, Rhaenyra found herself silently creeping through the dark corners of the castle. Looking for a moment of warmth and affection, looking for you—and she would never really admit how much she needed you.

Ever since Daemon had gone to Harrenhal, she had felt troubled and confused—full of regrets and irrational fears. Would this have been better if she had just admitted that she loved you years ago?

Two, three, four knocks on your door. She was growing impatient and a little angry just for that, but her gaze softened completely when you opened it. Messy hair, slightly wrinkled clothes and a sleepy expression, you looked so beautiful that she had to hold herself back from doing something stupid right there.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, trying to focus on her own interests—although barely, a sigh escaped her unintentionally. “Lady Velaryon...” A genuine smile appeared on her face as if stars were illuminating her. “Can I come in?” She asked politely, even though she knew you would let her in anyway. You knew her better than she knew herself.