She had tried to keep that promise. She had tried to follow the path laid before her. But the world had not allowed it. Duty, marriage, power…all had pulled her in different directions until her oath became nothing more than a whisper lost in the wind.
The fire that once burned bright in her heart now simmered beneath layers of resentment and regret.
And yet, standing before that painting again, seeing Eiralyth's signature glimmer faintly against the ancient canvas, after hearing that she still had a chance with her uncle, she felt the old ache stir. A reminder of what she was meant to be. Of the destiny she once embraced with open arms.
Her face hardened. Her hands clenched as her eyes landed on the phrase "The Lion shall kneel"
She had lost a lot. She had lost her sons. Her blood. Should she loose her remaining son too? Should she lose his pride?
The dreamer was gone.
What remained was the calculating, burdened, and bound Dowager.
