After a forbidden night with Ser Criston Cole, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is forced by her father, King Viserys, to drink the moon tea and protect her honor. To shield her image further, she weds Ser Laenor Velaryon, and together they move to Drift...
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Present Time
Red Keep, King's Landing
Dahlia felt as though thousands of ants crawled beneath her skin, her nerves alive with restless energy. Anxiety throbbed through every vein, her body braced for what was about to unfold — a conversation that would bind her to this family she had only just discovered.
The Council Chamber was heavy with expectation. All eyes fixed on the Crown Princess, who bore the weight of secrets and revelations like a cloak about her shoulders.
"Ser Criston," the King's voice broke through the silence, weary but resolute as he turned toward his Knight.
"Your Grace?" Criston asked, his tone clipped, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease.
"Please, take a seat," Viserys commanded, shifting with difficulty so he might look the Knight directly in the face. "This matter binds you as much as it does the rest of us. You are no bystander here — it is your truth as well. Sit, and face it."
A murmur rippled faintly through the chamber, then died. Ser Criston stiffened, his pride and dread colliding behind his expression. Yet the King's order was not one he could refuse. Reluctantly, he stepped forward and lowered himself into the chair at Viserys's right — the very seat where Prince Aemond had sat earlier, his presence now replaced by the man who might claim fatherhood over the Valyrian Queen.
Once he was seated, silence fell heavier than before. All attention, sharp as drawn steel, returned to Princess Rhaenyra. She shifted in her place, squaring her shoulders. Her fingers twined together atop the table, her rings clicking softly as she twisted them, betraying the storm within.
And then her eyes lifted, locking onto Dahlia. The weight of a mother's gaze, filled with longing, guilt, and fragile hope, bore down on the young Queen.
"I would like to begin by asking you what you were told," Rhaenyra said at last, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry through the chamber. Her eyes did not waver from Dahlia. "I know that several here have already spoken of... the before, the during, and the after. But what about you? Do you have questions? Because I imagine you must have many."
Dahlia cleared her throat, her expression taut as steel though her chest rose and fell with sharp breaths. She fixed her mismatched gaze on the Crown Princess. "Yes. Some of my companions told me what came to light during their visit." Her tone carried both restraint and an edge. "I do have questions — too many to ask here, some far too personal for such a gathering. But there is one I must ask now."
She leaned forward, her voice quiet but cutting enough to make the room seem smaller. "Did you agree, from the beginning, to put me away? To... hide me? To give me up for what, in my land, we call adoption?"
"Adoption?" Rhaenyra repeated the word as if it were a foreign tongue. Confusion, raw and unfeigned, clouded her features. "Forgive me... but I don't understand what that means."
