The torches were lit in the throne room, and the Queen Rhaenyra climbed the iron steps and seated herself where King Viserys had sat before her.

You watched this from the side. Jacaerys was now gone, pierced by arrows and swallowed by the sea.

That made you, Rhaenyra's rightful heir. You tried to imagine yourself sitting on the throne. Yet you couldn't grasp that vision.

You weren't sure if the others saw it, but you could have sworn your mother was bleeding when she walked past you after the ceremony was over.

Later that night you entered your mother's chambers. She sat at the big chair near the fireplace. She really looked like a true Dragon Queen in the light of the flames. Old King Jaehaerys' crown still on her head, dressed in Targaryen colors, red and black.

"Mother, you're hurt."

You said, taking steps towards her. And your words were true, Rhaenyra's palms were bleeding, cuts from the Iron Throne.

It wasn't until you spoke that your Queen Mother seemed to understand your presence.