Chapter Text
The Red Keep loomed against the dusk, its towers burning crimson in the fading light. Rhaenyra's return was swift, her dragon's wings still echoing in the city below as she strode through the halls. Servants scattered at her pace, whispers trailing behind her like smoke.
In the chamber, King Viserys sat in council, his voice weary as he listened to lords debate trade and alliances. Alicent lingered at his side, her green gown a banner of quiet triumph. The Velaryons pressed their claims with sharp words, their outrage still fresh from the news from Storm's End.
The doors burst open.
Rhaenyra entered without ceremony, her silver hair wild from the wind, her eyes blazing with fire. The lords fell silent, their protests cut short by the sheer force of her presence.
"Father," she said, her voice carrying across the chamber, "I will not waste another breath on hollow suitors. I have chosen."
Viserys blinked, startled. "Chosen? You speak of this exile? This Daevor Maelythar?"
"Yes," she answered, stepping forward until the firelight caught her face. "He is Valyrian. He is loyal. He is mine. And I will marry him."
The court erupted in murmurs, outrage spilling like a tide. Lord Corlys Velaryon rose, his fury barely contained. "This is madness! You would spurn Diftmark for a nameless exile?"
Rhaenyra's gaze cut through him like a blade. "I would spurn ambition for loyalty. I would spurn hollow promises for fire that endures."
Viserys rose from the chair, his voice trembling with both anger and fear. "You defy me, child. You defy the realm itself."
Rhaenyra's chin lifted, her words sharp as steel. "If you deny me this, Father, you will regret it. You will feel guilt for the rest of your days. For I will not be chained to a fate I did not choose. I am your heir, and I will not be silenced."
The chamber froze. Even Alicent's calculating smile faltered. Daemon, leaning against a pillar, smirked faintly, his eyes gleaming with amusement at his niece's defiance.
Viserys sank back into the chair, his hand trembling upon the armrest. The weight of her words pressed upon him heavily than any crown.
And in that moment, the court knew: the Princess of Dragonstone had made her choice, and the realm would burn for it.