I was born to inherit this. From my first breath, it was meant to be mine.

You are not the heir my father chose, whatever claim you may believe yourself to possess.

The council shall convene at dawn, and there decide what is to become of me.

I have been schooled since infancy to sit that throne. No one thought to teach me how lonely it would be.

You are but a second son. By rights, that ought to mean little. Here, it means all.

The succession runs in my blood, heedless of my wishes. I have never once been granted a choice in any of it.

I would surrender my claim for you. 

You look upon that throne as though it were a cage. Of late, I have begun to see the bars as well.

The court has already begun to choose its banners. I must know beneath which one you mean to stand.

You possess the better claim to this crown, and we both know it, though the court may choke upon the truth.

The regency ends when I come of age next spring. I cannot say whether I am prepared for what follows.

My sister gathers allies in the north and calls men to her banners. I do not think she means to wait for the old king to die in his own bed.

I would trade this birthright for a single year lived as any common soul might live. 

The council would have me wed before autumn’s end, that the succession might be secured. Not one among them has thought to ask whom I would choose.

I watched my father die with his fingers still closed around a power he no longer possessed the strength to wield.

You would rule with greater kindness than any of us.

The crown has passed over me and settled upon my cousin’s brow. I have spent my whole life preparing for a future that is mine no longer.

I do not desire the throne. I desire only the right to refuse it, and even that has been denied me.

You were raised in exile, waiting upon a claim that might never ripen. I do not know how the waiting has not broken you.

I have inherited a war I did not begin and a crown I am not certain I have earned.

You would burn the realm to ash before you saw it fall into unworthy hands. I have begun to wonder whether mine are such hands.

The laws of succession favor the eldest son. I had the ill fortune to be born a daughter, and thus wrongly born in the eyes of the crown.

You ask whether I desire this. No one has asked me such a thing in all my life. I find I do not know how to answer.

The realm requires a strong hand upon the throne. I do not know that mine is strong enough. Tell me that it is, even should you have to lie.

You would have made a good queen. I think upon that more often than I should, now that the crown has fallen to me instead.

The ancient laws decree that the crown must pass through blood alone. I fear that law has destroyed far more of this family than it ever preserved.

You stood beside me at my coronation when half the court wished you cast out. I shall remember it until my dying day.

This quarrel over the succession has already claimed two lives. I fear it has not yet taken its full due.

I never wished to rule. I wished only to be free. No one born to this house has ever been permitted both.

You would surrender everything for me. I begin to understand that you count your claim among those sacrifices.

I have worn this crown for but a single day, and already I understand how it broke my father.

You are the rightful heir, and every soul in this chamber knows it, even those who would rather bite out their tongues than confess it.

The throne was never meant to be mine. Perhaps that is the very thing that might set me free of it.

You once told me that power is not inherited, but seized. I did not understand you until I watched my brother reach for mine.

The council fears the ruler I may yet become. On certain days, I find that I fear them as well.

I would sooner lay down my crown than become the sort of monarch my father was.

Perhaps the most exasperating thing is that a great many of the people who are the first to say that Rhaenyra’s supporters are excusing everything she does are themselves devoted to characters who are in fact clearly intended to be antagonists in the story. It is entirely OK to love an antagonist and there is nothing wrong with finding a cruel, morally flawed, or even irredeemable character fascinating. However, it is very unserious to give these characters an extensive amount of psychological depth while at the same time claiming that any attempt to provide a context for Rhaenyra amounts to blind devotion. If you can understand why your favorite character was shaped by humiliation, neglect, grief, ambition, or war and still do not believe that such circumstances excuse them, then you already grasp the distinction that Rhaenyra’s defenders are making; you merely seem to be unwilling to show Rhaenyra the same interpretive generosity.

That is the reason why a great deal of the criticism aimed at her seems not to be an honest evaluation of the text but rather a personal bias that is looking for evidence to back itself up. Each of her decisions is viewed through the most unkind possible interpretation; each success is downplayed, qualified, or attributed to someone else, while each failure is entirely her own. Whenever she hesitates, she is considered weak; when she takes action, she is seen as reckless; when she looks for peace, she is regarded as indecisive; and when she embraces war, she is regarded as bloodthirsty. The conclusion that she is unsuitable has already been reached, and the evidence is then arranged to fit that conclusion. No character could endure a system in which every possible choice is taken as proof against them.

That doesn't mean that Rhaenyra is free from criticism. I can admit that clutching Helaena went beyond the limits. I can admit that fear and paranoia have started to impair her judgment, and that grief, isolation, betrayal, and the strain of war are altering her in ways which are meant to make us uneasy. I can see that merely understanding how she reached a decision doesn't make that decision correct. Yet all of those admissions do not remove the reasons why I support her. I support her since she had been named heir and has repeatedly been confirmed in that position. The lords of the realm have sworn their allegiance to her claim. Her succession was opposed not on the grounds that her opponent had shown greater wisdom, experience, or fitness to rule, but merely because he was a man. She has spent years observing people looking for reasons to nullify a position which men automatically inherit without ever having to prove that they are worthy of it. The political system required perfection from her yet accepted mediocrity in men as adequate qualification. Moreover, the story asks us over and over again to see what takes place when a woman is compelled to defend something that had been lawfully promised to her against people who will never regard her as worthy, no matter what she does.

The fact that one supports Rhaenyra's claim does not mean that one is giving moral approval to all of the decisions she makes. Political legitimacy does not mean the same as personal virtue. If it were necessary for rulers to be morally perfect in order for their claims to remain legitimate, then hardly anyone in this story—or in history—would have held a crown for longer than an afternoon. One also has to cease pretending that understanding a character's motivations is equivalent to supporting their actions. Saying 'I understand why she reached this point' does not mean that what she did was right. Offering an explanation does not serve as forgiveness. Simply providing context does not lead to pardon, and criticism is not automatically perceptive just because it is negative.

The gods spoke your name long before your mother ever did.

It was never a question of whether the prophecy would awaken, only when.

There are older things than kings, and older promises than crowns.

I fear the prophecy less than I fear those who seek to fulfill it.

The realm has spent generations preparing for your coming. I wonder if it prepared you at all.

You have mistaken a prophecy for a promise.

Every man who has interpreted these words has reached a different conclusion.

The stars have not been thus aligned since the prophecy was first spoken.

There is another verse, though none alive dare recite it.

The oracle begged that your name never be written.

The prophecy speaks of two heirs, though history remembers but one.

Some truths were buried not because they were false, but because they were true.

You bear the face the prophecy described.

The realm has long awaited a savior. It never considered what such salvation might require.

The scroll has outlived kingdoms.

The prophecy did not foretell peace.

I have devoted my life to preventing what now stands before me.

There are some doors that ought never be opened, and some prophecies that ought never be read.

Fate has a curious habit of finding those who flee it.

Every attempt to thwart the prophecy has only strengthened it.

The gods delight in speaking plainly only after it is too late.

The prophecy named no victor.

You ask whether I believe the prophecy. I ask whether it believes in you.

There are many who would sooner see you dead than see the prophecy tested.

It is no blessing to know the shape of one's own ruin.

The child foretold has become the very thing the realm feared.

We have spent centuries preparing for the wrong heir.

Not every chosen soul is chosen for glory.

You were never meant to inherit the kingdom. You were meant to change it.

The prophecy concerns blood far more than birthright.

There are those who worship the prophecy and those who fear it. I have yet to meet one who understands it.

Your ancestors spent their lives hiding these words from the world.

Every generation has believed itself the last.

I would sooner question the gods themselves than trust the certainty of prophets.

Some prophecies awaken only when spoken aloud.

The oldest lie ever told was that destiny cannot be resisted.

There is a reason the seers refused to finish the tale.

You have inherited a burden no crown could equal.

Even the ravens refused to fly the night you were born.

The heavens marked your coming with uncommon violence.

There are prophecies written in ink, and others written in blood.

The prophecy was never meant for mortal eyes.

I begin to fear that we have misunderstood every word.

The final line has been missing for generations.

A kingdom may survive a poor ruler. Few survive a fulfilled prophecy.

The gods have remained silent ever since your birth.

I do not doubt the prophecy. I doubt our understanding of it.

The greatest danger lies not in destiny itself, but in those determined to hasten its arrival.

I didn't take this post for the glory. There is no glory in this.

I swore an oath before I knew what oaths cost. I have been paying ever since.

You should not be in this part of the city at this hour. I will not ask again.

My loyalty belongs to the crown. 

Stand down. All of you. I said stand down! 

I have kept this city's peace for fifteen years. You have undone me in fifteen days.

You come to me with this now. At this hour. With blood on your hands and no explanation.

The gate closes at sundown. You knew that. Why are you only arriving now?

There are things I have done in service of this city that I will not speak of. Not to you. Not to anyone.

Lower your voice. These walls remember everything said within them.

I have followed orders my entire life. I am looking at you and wondering, for the first time, what it would mean to refuse one.

You are not safe here. 

My men did not see you. As far as this watch is concerned you were never here tonight.

I have held this post through three rulers. I will not compromise it. Not even for you.

The city does not sleep. Neither do I. We have that in common, at least.

Tell me what you know and tell me quickly. I have neither time nor patience for half truths.

I understand sacrifice. What I do not understand is being asked to sacrifice you.

Nobody passes through this gate without my leave.

I have drawn this sword in service of causes I did not believe in. I will not draw it against you.

You ask me to look the other way. You do not know what you are asking.

A commander does not have the luxury of doubt. I have been doubting since the moment I met you.

The fog comes in heavy off the river at this hour. Stay close.

I know every shadow in this city. I know every place a person might hide. I will find who did this.

You should fear me. Most people do. The fact that you do not is either very brave or very foolish.

I have given this city everything it has asked of me. Tonight it is asking for something I cannot give.

My second will take the watch. You and I need to speak somewhere without ears in the walls.

The law is the law. I did not write it. I do not always agree with it. I enforce it nonetheless.

You, of all people, came to the barracks. What has happened?

I have seen men break under far less. You are still standing. That means something.

Do not mistake my silence for approval, boy. Do not mistake it for indifference either.

I was told you were trouble the day you arrived in this city. I should have listened.

A knight serves. That is the whole of it. Serve, protect, endure. I have never wanted more than that until now.

I have enemies in every quarter of this city. I will not have you become a target because of your association with me.

The order came from above me. I am not certain it came from a place I still respect.

Put the blade down. I am asking you as someone who does not wish to see you hanged.

There are two kinds of people in a city like this. Those who are protected and those who do the protecting. I have always known which one I am.

You should not trust me simply because I wear this cloak. Trust must be earned. Let me earn it.

I will not pretend the law bends for sentiment. I will also not pretend I am without sentiment where you are concerned.

My duty ends at that door. What happens beyond it is between you and whatever gods you keep.

You are asking me to betray everything I have built my life upon.

The city watch answers to the crown. I answer to the city watch. Tonight I find myself answering to something else entirely.

I have buried men I called brothers. I have mourned them quietly and moved on because the realm does not pause for grief.

I am not accustomed to being seen. Only to being obeyed.

Ride out at first light. Take nothing that marks you as known to me. I will follow when I can.

You remind me of something I gave up a long time ago.