Rhaenyra wrapped her bare body with her Targaryen-black chamber robe. She had just finished her hot bath after riding Syrax for hours. Flying always aided her in clearing her mind, and she had hundreds of intrusive thoughts that've been waging war inside her head ever since her annulment.

There was a hint of shame and embarrassment that still stung her honor. The looks she received when returning to the Red Keep, because she couldn't keep her marriage with cousin Laenor together even if she tried.

I did try. I tried everything. I tried as hard as I could. she reminded herself yet again after catching herself gazing into her large mirror in lost contemplation.

She was beautiful, she was aware of this. Every man in the Realm would be happy to have her as a wife, as a Queen, and they the King consort. She'd seen the piles of letters, the clouds of ravens that came to deliver the pleading words of many Lords. Lords who were practically begging for the Princess' hand.

So many men who desired her, so many except for the one who was supposed to matter the most.

She couldn't deny her cousin's 'nature', she knew who he was from the beginning. The pair even made a deal with each other that as soon as they performed their duty and produced an heir, they could both seek their own pleasures. However Laenor was perhaps a bit too eager to quench his thirst for the young handsome sailors and men inhabiting both Dragon Stone and King's Landing. He'd fly his lovers around on Seasmoke and then treat them to the finest wines and meats. As for Rhaenyra . . .

She felt like a scorned maiden.

They did try for an heir. They tried for a grand total of three times. Once on their wedding night, and then again months later. And then once more a year later. The deed never lasted for more than a few minutes, with her husband drunk and sloppy every time. And then he'd return to his chambers soon afterward, where a much more 'suitable' partner was there waiting for him.

The final time had granted her hope. She stopped bleeding for three moons, and a maternal switch flipped on in her system. She shared tears of joy with her maids, excited to send a raven to her father the King and informing him about his new grandchild that she was carrying. She finally had an heir of her own. She'd finally be a mother.

Then her moon cycles returned, and had been normal and on time ever since. She wept tears of pain. She wept by herself.

Gods knew where Laenor may've been at the time. Most likely out drinking himself to sleep with a man or two. Make no mistake Ser Laenor truly loved his wife, as the two had grown up together and promised to rule as a pair. But he could never bring himself to do the one important husbandly duty that mattered more than anything.

And the more he reminded himself of this, the more he drank out of self-mortification. And the more he drank, the more pleasure he sought. And the more pleasure he sought, the more careless he became, and the more shame he'd bring on his wife; the Princess who would be Queen.

The day came where it could no longer be tolerated.

Rhaenyra's fingers rubbed together in an anxious fit. She fidgeted with the silk of her robe as her thoughts began to spiral once again. She remembered her father's letter demanding that she return to the Red Keep at once. She originally planned to talk him out of annulling her marriage, that she and Laenor could make everything work, and her husband would control his frivolous habits, and to consider what the Velaryons would think about such an extreme decision on the Crown's part-

*knock knock*

The Princess almost gasped at the hollow sounds coming from her chamber doors. She glanced in their direction before turning to her large mirror a final time to make sure she was covered and decent.

"Come," she invited.