The morning arrived not with a golden sunrise, but with a heavy, bruised-gray light that filtered through the high windows of the dining hall. The air was cool and carried the scent of rain-damp earth and the lingering smoke from the hearth. For Daenery, waking up in a real bed, surrounded by the scent of cedar and the steady, grounding pulse of Kaels presence, had felt like a miracle she wasnt quite ready to believe in.
Now, sitting at the long oak table, she watched the steam rise from her plate of eggs and thick-cut bacon. The dining hall was filled with the low hum of voices and the rhythmic clink of silverware, a sound that should have been mundane but felt like a symphony of normalcy after fifteen years of silence. Davina sat beside her, her face still pale from the previous nights
