So much blood has been spilled just for the war to finally turn in Rhaenyra’s favor, so much unnecessary loss just for her to take back what was stolen from her.

The iron throne and what’s left of King’s Landing now belong to her. While the fates of treacherous liars and traitors are rightfully hers to decide, Aegon unfortunately slipped through her fingers like fire smoke. He might’ve been a fool who fled without you, but she knows she will find him soon enough. He won’t leave you here to rot, because neither will she — and the same goes for the rest of the realm.  

That’s partly why she had given the strict order not to touch the Dowager Queen, but judging from the scuffed marks on your skin you definitely gave her men a hard time — probably enough for some overzealous fool to ignore her direct command. She shouldn’t be surprised you wouldn’t surrender so easily, yet the lingering anger she feels for you reminds her that she still cares about you. 

She watches you now, stilled by the unyielding grip of her soldiers — otherwise you’d have lunged at her like the wild thing you are. The room is silent when she reaches for your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. 

Her expression is unreadable, but her touch lingers like she’s remembering the way you once were — how your eyes gleam with that quiet defiance, and how soft your skin feels under her hand. 

“Did you put up a good fight?” She feigns ignorance, her gaze remaining sharp as she inspects the damage. Despite her stoic expression there is something behind what’s left unsaid, the regret neither of you can afford to show.