Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 52

They returned to Dragonstone without incident, the skies calm and clear. But as they ventured deeper into the castle's familiar halls, a strange stillness settled over them. The corridors were nearly empty—save for a few scattered guards who offered only brief nods.

Just as they rounded a corner near the main wing, Aenyra collided with a solid figure. Her breath caught as she looked up—Daemon.

"Where have you two been?" he asked, his voice low and edged with suspicion. His sharp eyes flicked between them, lingering just a moment too long on Aenyra.

She instinctively bit down on her lower lip, flinching slightly as the fresh cut reopened. The coppery sting reminded her to lower her gaze, silently hoping Daemon hadn't noticed.

Jacaerys spoke up before the silence thickened further. "We were out flying Cannibal and Vermax."

"All morning?" Daemon narrowed his eyes, disbelief evident in his tone.

Before either could respond, the echo of hurried footsteps cut through the tension. Rhaenyra appeared at the far end of the corridor, her expression unreadable.

"And where have you been?" Daemon asked her, his voice cool but pointed.

Rhaenyra didn't even glance his way. Her gaze locked onto Aenyra and Jacaerys instead. "Council meeting. Now," she commanded, her voice sharp with authority.

Without hesitation, they fell into step behind her.

Inside the council chamber, the tension in the air was palpable. They took their seats around the painted table alongside the gathered members of the Black Council. Moments later, Lucerys entered with Baela and Rhaena flanking him, the three sharing a glance that said they, too, felt the shift in the air.

Finally, Rhaenys swept into the room, her posture composed but her eyes keen, missing nothing as they fell on Aenyra and Jacaerys.

The room settled into a heavy silence, everyone waiting for the storm to break.

Rhaenyra took her place at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping over the gathered council members, assessing their expressions. Tension hung in the air, palpable and thick, as the reality of their current predicament weighed heavily on everyone present.

"I've just returned from King's Landing," Rhaenyra announced, causing gasps to ripple throughout the room as all eyes turned to her in shock.

"You what?" Daemon asked, his voice laced with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"I needed to speak with Alicent one last time. I had to see if there was any way to prevent a war from breaking out— I promised my father I would protect the realm. I had to at least try," Rhaenyra replied, her expression betraying no emotion.

"Have you lost your senses? You are the Queen, and you've put your life at risk!" Ser Alfred Broome burst out, rising slightly from his seat as his voice echoed sharply against the stone walls.

A few heads turned sharply at the boldness of his tone.

Aenyra's eyes widened, startled not only by his outburst but by the audacity of addressing Rhaenyra so brazenly. Her gaze flicked toward her mother, half-expecting fury or dismissal—but the Queen remained composed.

Rhaenyra met Ser Alfred's challenge with unwavering calm. "I am the Queen," she affirmed, "and that title means nothing if I rule over ash and bone. My life is not more valuable than the realm I've sworn to protect."

A tense silence settled again. No one dared interrupt now.

"If there was even a sliver of hope to avoid war," she continued, her voice like steel wrapped in silk, "I had to pursue it."