The Dragon's Dilemma

Lyraella III

Lyraella

The silence in Lyraella's room was shattered by the sudden, violent crash of the door. She sprang to her feet, her muscles reacting before her mind even processed the intrusion. Her hand reached instinctively for the small daggers she kept hidden under her pillow. In one smooth motion, she hurled them across the room.

The first dagger struck the guard's hood, pinning him to the wall just above his head. Two more daggers whizzed past his face, embedding themselves into the wall on either side, their gleaming blades nearly brushing his cheeks. The final dagger landed right between his legs, burying itself dangerously close to his manhood.

The guard froze, his eyes wide with terror, pinned in place by a combination of the dagger and the shock. Lyraella blinked, slowly lowering her arm. Her breathing was steady despite her heart racing. She hadn't meant to go quite so far. It was pure instinct.

"Apologies," she said, her voice calm but edged with amusement. "Instinct."

The guard, still pale and visibly shaken, swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the daggers around him. "No... no harm done, my lady," he stammered. "But... but the Queen—Rhaenyra—has called for an emergency council meeting."

Lyraella straightened, the amusement draining from her face. "What's happened?"

The guard took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure. "The Triarchy has attacked the blockade. A ship with the Queen's sons, Aegon and Viserys, is under attack. They're heading for Pentos."

Lyraella's heart dropped. Aegon and Viserys were still children, far too young to be caught up in war. The threat felt suddenly much closer, much more personal. Without another word, she hurried past the guard, retrieving her daggers as she went. She would need to be ready for anything.

As she made her way to the council chamber, the tension in the air became palpable. Whispers of worry and dread echoed through the halls of Dragonstone. Lyraella entered the room, where the high lords and council members were already gathered. There was a murmur of voices, the weight of the news clearly bearing down on everyone present.

She found her place beside Vaelora, Zarion, Zyraena, Draegar, and Elira. They were all seated together, though Seraphina was absent. Vaelora's face was a mask of cold determination, her fiery green eyes flickering with barely concealed rage. The same flame of intensity blazed in Blackfyre's eyes—their bond mirrored in those glances.

Lyraella felt small in this room of lords and warriors, but she kept her back straight, trying to match the strength of her sister's presence. Her hand twitched by her side, half-wishing she still held one of her daggers.

Rhaenyra stood at the head of the table, visibly strained. The fierce, composed queen they all knew was unraveling before their eyes, worry for her sons creeping into every word. Lyraella knew this was no ordinary council meeting. Rhaenyra wasn't just a queen here—she was a mother, desperate to protect her children.

The maester spoke first, his voice trembling slightly. "Your Grace, we've received word that the Triarchy has split into two forces. A large group is heading toward Driftmark, likely to settle their debts from the Stepstones, and are attacking the blockade. The smaller group has set its sights on the ship carrying your sons—Aegon and Viserys."

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. A slow, simmering rage began to build in the room, none more so than in Daemon, who slammed his fist on the table, rattling the map and cups that sat upon it.