From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Chapter 12: Beneath the Queen's Watchful Eye

As I drifted back into consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the unfamiliar ceiling above me, a pale, vaulted structure that contrasted with the rugged stone walls I had grown accustomed to. Soft morning light filtered through a large, arched window, casting a golden glow across the room. The bed beneath me felt almost too comfortable, its softness cradling my aching body in a way that was both foreign and soothing. Blinking slowly, I tried to piece together where I was, my thoughts sluggish and hazy.

It was then that I saw her.

Rhaenyra sat in a wooden chair beside the bed, her head tilted to one side as she slept.

The morning glow framed her in a soft halo, highlighting the ethereal beauty of her features. Her white hair, usually styled in intricate braids, was now loose and disheveled, cascading over her shoulders in a wild, almost untamed manner. Her face, usually so guarded and regal, was now completely at peace. The harsh lines of worry and command had smoothed away in sleep, leaving her looking softer, more vulnerable, yet no less powerful. The gentle rise and fall of her chest added a rhythm to the quiet room, and I couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she looked with the morning rays behind her, casting her in a light that seemed almost otherworldly.

My gaze traveled down to her state of dress, and I felt my breath catch. She wore a simple nightdress, black silk that clung to her frame in a way that made my heart skip a beat. It was the first time I'd seen Rhaenyra's bare arms, and they were just as stunning as every other part of her. I found myself recalling how it felt when those arms had wrapped around me, strong and protective, after the terrifying encounter with Daemon and the Cannibal. The memory sent a shiver down my spine.

As I pulled myself from my thoughts, I noticed Rhaenyra's arms breaking out in chills, a faint tremble passing through her as she shifted in her sleep. She grumbled softly, the sound pulling at my heartstrings in a way I hadn't expected. My eyes flickered down to the fur blanket that lay discarded on the floor at her feet. She must have draped it over herself at some point, only for it to slip away during the night. Another gust of salty wind blew through the window, causing her to shiver again.

I couldn't stand the thought of her being cold. Moving carefully, I attempted to sit up, reaching for the blanket to cover her back up, but the moment I moved, a sharp, searing pain erupted through my body.

"Fuck me," I groaned, the pain momentarily blinding me.

I fell back against the bed, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out. The sudden movement had jolted me out of the dreamy haze, forcing me to confront the reality of my injuries.

The sound of my groan must have woken Rhaenyra, because the next thing I knew, she was stirring, her sleepy eyes blinking open as she slowly came to. She looked around in confusion for a moment, before her gaze settled on me.

"Elizabeth," she breathed, her voice rough with sleep yet filled with palpable relief. She immediately leaned forward, her hands reaching out to steady me. The warmth of her touch sent a jolt of something electric through me, but I was too exhausted to react. Her grip was firm, but gentle, as if she were afraid of hurting me further, yet determined to keep me from slipping away.

"Don't try to move," Rhaenyra instructed, her voice carrying that familiar, commanding tone, but now it was softened by an undercurrent of worry. Her eyes roamed over my face, searching for any signs of worsening pain or distress. "The Maesters say you need to stay in bed."

I let out a groan as I reluctantly laid back down, the sharp pain subsiding but leaving behind a dull ache that seemed to pulse through every inch of my body. It felt like I'd been hit by a semitruck. Then, as my thoughts began to clear, the memories of the recent events crashed down on me, and I realized that going toe-to-toe with an armored White Cloak was probably the Westerosi equivalent of that semitruck.