The Dragon's Dilemma

Vaelora V

Vaelora

Vaelora knocked briskly on Lyraella's door, the familiar rhythm resonating through the quiet corridors of Dragonstone—a melody born from years of sisterhood and shared memories. Each knock echoed with urgency, infused with the bond they had built over countless adventures, trials, and secrets. When the door creaked open, Lyraella stood there, her soft smile barely masking the lingering sleep in her pale green eyes, a sleepy haze still cloaking her features like a delicate veil.

"Vae," Lyraella greeted, pulling the door wider to let her sister in. The warmth of their shared childhood enveloped them, the scents of wood and sea salt mingling in the air. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," Vaelora admitted, running a hand through her silver hair, the strands shimmering in the soft morning light. "Too much on my mind. Thought maybe we could go for a flight. Just like old times." The thought of soaring through the skies, free as the winds, filled her with a longing that tugged at her heart.

Lyraella's eyes lit up, her smile transforming into something more radiant. "I'd love that."

As they made their way down the stone corridors, the salty sea air tugged at their cloaks, invigorating them for the day ahead. Vaelora's mind drifted back to her recent decision—betrothing Lyraella to Jace. At the time, it had felt like a wise, political move. Yet now, watching her sister's eyes light up with excitement, doubts began to gnaw at her. Maybe she had been too hasty in her judgment. The thought unsettled her as they approached the dragon mounts.

Outside, the dragons awaited them, their massive forms casting long shadows on the ground. Whitefyre stood poised and regal, her elegant white scales glistening like freshly fallen snow, reflecting the early morning sun. Her pale green eyes glowed softly, radiating an aura of calm and serenity. Beside her, Blackfyre was a restless storm of energy. His jet-black scales seemed to drink in the sunlight, making him appear more imposing, and his acid-green eyes blazed with impatience, darting back and forth as he awaited their arrival.

Vaelora felt a surge of affection at the sight of him, despite his fidgeting. "Seven hells, can't you stand still for two minutes?" she muttered, striding toward him with an exasperated smile.

Blackfyre let out a sharp growl, shoving his snout into her side with enough force to make her stagger. Vaelora cursed under her breath, shoving him back—though it was akin to trying to move a mountain. "You're a real pain in my ass, you know that?"

Blackfyre rumbled in response, his green eyes flashing with amusement as if to say he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You two never stop, do you?" Lyraella's voice carried a warm tone as she approached Whitefyre, who lowered her head to nuzzle Lyraella's cheek. The gentle motion was both graceful and affectionate, showcasing the deep bond between the dragon and her rider. Despite Whitefyre's usual calm demeanor, there was a glint of mischief in her eyes—a playful spirit that matched her rider's own.

"Blackfyre thinks he's king of the sky," Vaelora grumbled, shooting a fond glare at her dragon. "But he forgets he's not flying alone."

Blackfyre snorted loudly, almost defiantly, flicking his tail again, this time narrowly missing Vaelora's legs. She dodged just in time but not before unleashing a colorful string of curses. "You bastard!"

Lyraella chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Whitefyre likes to play too, but it's more of a... gentle game. She enjoys making me guess what she'll do next."