The Dragon's Dilemma

Rhaenyra IV

Rhaenyra

The war council chamber was heavy with the weight of responsibility as Rhaenyra took her seat at the head of the table. The air crackled with tension, and all eyes turned to her, the Princess of Dragonstone, as she opened the meeting. On the maps before them, Dragonstone and the surrounding areas were littered with markers indicating the locations of their enemies and their own scattered forces.

The Selaerions had arrived just days ago, and today they would be assigned their duties. Rhaenyra knew how important it was to put their strength to use, but she could feel the unease that lingered around the council members whenever Vaelora and Lyraella were involved. Trust was a fragile thing, and it had yet to be earned by the newly arrived Selaerion sisters.

"Jace and Vermax will patrol around King's Landing," Rhaenyra began, turning to her eldest son. Jace nodded with a seriousness that still surprised her sometimes, his youthful face already hardened by the realities of war. "Baela and Moondancer will join you."

Baela, standing tall and confident beside Jace, acknowledged her place in the plan with a firm nod.

"Vaelora," Rhaenyra continued, her gaze landing on the silver-haired woman across the table, "you and Lyraella will patrol the Gullet with Blackfyre and Whitefyre. The blockade there is critical."

Vaelora, as always, met her eyes with a defiant fire. "We'll handle it," she said, her voice clipped but resolute.

Rhaenyra knew Vaelora's strength, but she also knew that not all the council members trusted the Selaerion sisters. Vaelora had always been defensive, and Rhaenyra could sense that some of that defensiveness came from the unspoken judgment that still hung in the air.

"Caraxes and I will remain on Dragonstone," Daemon added from his place beside her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the map. "Addam of Hull and Seasmoke will stay as well. There will always be three dragons here to protect the island—along with Syrax."

Rhaenyra nodded, feeling a small measure of relief at the thought of Dragonstone's defenses. With the Greens making moves on every front, they had to be prepared for anything.

"Zarion and I want to patrol too," a voice piped up suddenly. It was Zyraena, her bright eyes alight with eagerness. "We can help."

Beside her, Zarion nodded vigorously, backing up his sister's enthusiasm. 

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Vaelora cut in, her voice sharp. "No. You'll stay here."

Zarion's expression fell, and Zyraena shot a confused glance at Vaelora. "But we've trained—"

"I don't care how much you've trained," Vaelora snapped, her voice harsh. "Your dragons are young and untested. If you face Vhagar or Dreamfyre in the skies, you won't stand a chance. I won't let you go out there just to get yourselves killed."

Zyraena's lip trembled, and Zarion looked to Rhaenyra, but it was clear that Vaelora's word was final. Rhaenyra watched the exchange carefully, noting the fierce protectiveness in Vaelora's tone. Zarion and Zyraena weren't her blood, but she had taken them in when their parents had died, and her protective instincts were undeniable.

Joffrey, one of Rhaenyra's youngest sons, shifted nervously beside his brothers. "Mother, I want to go too," he said quietly, his eyes pleading.

Rhaenyra felt a pang in her chest at his words. Joffrey was young—too young for war in her eyes. "No, Joff," she said gently, leaning toward him. "Tyraxes is still growing. I won't risk you in battle. Not yet."