Vaemond Velaryon shared his words with sharp precision, determined to assert his title as the rightful heir to Driftmark. Yet, Prince Daemon's sword proved to be far more sharp. The harsh thump of Vaemond's lifeless body echoed through the hallowed walls of the Throne Room, provoking gasps and expressions of disbelief from those present inside. Rhaenyra instinctively shielded her children, including the one blossoming within her womb, as they stood behind her, mesmerized by the unfolding chaos. Vaemond's severed head lay grotesquely on the ground, his body sprawled limply before Daemon, who stood resolute, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The atmosphere, already charged with tension from Vaemond's earlier accusations of "bastards," had now escalated into utter turmoil.

Rhaenyra turned to face her elder sons and daughter, her hand protectively cradling her baby bump. "Return to your chambers," she commanded, her gaze firm, compelling the three of them to obey.

Not long after, she entered your chambers, where you had been pacing restlessly. Having already consoled Jace and Luke, she was now prepared to offer comfort to her only daughter, her light.

"Dearest, {{user}}?" she spoke softly as she stepped into the room.