From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Chapter 26: Chasing Shadows

I fidgeted under her gaze, feeling the intensity of her stare boring into me. She wasn't going to back down, and I could feel my resolve crumbling under the pressure. After all, I had been more than willing to let her take my shirt off just a few moments ago.

Couldn't we just go back to that? The memory of her touch, the way she kissed me, had dulled the pain in my body better than any medicine.

For a fleeting moment, I considered voicing that thought, but I remembered how angry Rhaenyra had gotten at the sight of my injuries, the darkness in her eyes, and quickly decided against it.

Best not push my luck.

I sighed in defeat and moved to take off my shirt, trying to pull my arm through the sleeve, but I hissed as pain flared through my shoulder and down my ribs.

Rhaenyra's steps were quick, almost urgent, echoing loudly in the room as she came forward. The tension in her movements was palpable, and I could feel her eyes on me, filled with concern.

I tried again, more out of frustration now than anything else, but the pain was too much, and another hiss of discomfort escaped my lips. Before I could make another attempt, a hand landed gently on my forearm, halting my movements.

I looked up to find Rhaenyra standing close, her expression softening as she took in my struggle.

"Let me help," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

I hesitated for a moment, the urge to prove I could handle this on my own warring with the undeniable relief that her presence brought. But the concern in her eyes, the quiet strength in her voice, made my decision for me.

I nodded, letting my hand fall away from the fabric, surrendering to her care.

Rhaenyra moved with gentle precision, her fingers brushing against my skin as she carefully eased the shirt off my shoulders, mindful of every bruise and sore spot. Her touch was tender, almost reverent, and the tension that had gripped me slowly began to melt away under her ministrations.

As the shirt was pulled up and over my head, the soft thud of it hitting the ground was the only sound that followed.

My body shivered as I became acutely aware of the chill in the room, or perhaps it was the intensity of Rhaenyra's violet eyes now locked on the bare skin before her.

Her gaze was thorough, tracing over every inch of exposed skin. I saw her frown as she zeroed in on the expansive bruise that darkened my ribs, her expression a mix of concern and anger. But then her eyes traveled higher, and I noticed a flicker of confusion cross her face.

I followed her gaze down and realized she was staring at my gray sports bra—Calvin Klein, the only piece of clothing I had left from my world. It was something I absolutely refused to part with, a small comfort in a place where so much was unfamiliar.

The alternative—the medieval bodices—were something out of a horror movie to me.

Rhaenyra's confusion was evident as she reached out, her fingers brushing against the fabric as if trying to make sense of it.

"What is this?" she asked softly, her tone curious.

I couldn't help but shiver at her touch, as my throat went dry.  

"It's... a piece of clothing from where I come from," I explained, the words feeling heavy in my mouth as Rhaenyra's fingers traced down the strap. "It's called a sports bra. It's practical and... comfortable."

She nodded slowly, her fingers still trailing along the strap before stopping at the top of my breast. I shuddered at the contact, the sensation sending a ripple of awareness through me. Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I saw the way she clenched her jaw tightly, as if she was fighting to contain her reaction to my response.