The Dragon's Dilemma

Vaelora VIII

Vaelora

The winds whipped through Vaelora's hair as she and Blackfyre soared high above the churning seas. The sun was just beginning its descent, casting an orange glow across the horizon, and Vaelora could feel her heart soaring along with her dragon. It had been too long since she'd flown without a destination or task, just for the sheer thrill of it. No patrols, no training, just her and Blackfyre.

The last few days had been exhausting. After Rhaenyra had entrusted her with training Aegon and Viserys, Vaelora barely had a moment to herself. She had always been a natural on dragonback, the best rider of her family, and Rhaenyra had seen that clearly. Vaelora had trained her family—Lyraella, Zarion, Zyraena, Seraphina—to ride dragons without saddles, a dangerous but exhilarating skill that allowed the rider to run freely along the dragon's back mid-flight. Even the older pair, Elira and Draegar, who didn't yet have their own dragons, had learned to practice the techniques with Vaelora's guidance.

It was no small task to train Rhaenyra's youngest sons, especially with their dragons being wild and untamed. Greyfyre and Shadowfyre, newly bonded to Aegon and Viserys, rejected saddles, and their new riders had no choice but to learn the hardest way. Rhaenyra had insisted that Vaelora train them, calling her the best dragonrider she'd ever seen. It was an honor, of course, but it left Vaelora drained. Between her patrols over the Gullet and the endless training sessions, Vaelora had hardly slept. She loved the boys, though—Aegon was brave and determined, and Viserys, while shy, had a steely resolve that reminded her of herself as a child. Despite their struggles, they were progressing well, learning to work with their wild dragons in ways Vaelora herself had once mastered with Blackfyre.

But today, finally, she was free. Free to ride for the joy of it, to feel the sky open up around her and breathe in the scent of salt and sea. Blackfyre rumbled beneath her, his massive black wings slicing through the air as they dove in a steep arc. Vaelora laughed, the exhilaration of the fall sending a rush of excitement through her veins.

"Don't get too cocky," she shouted into the wind, sensing Blackfyre's mischievous mood. She could feel his energy, playful but competitive. He loved pushing her limits, testing her control.

In response, Blackfyre barrel-rolled sharply to the left, sending Vaelora spinning. She let out a string of curses, gripping tightly as her stomach lurched.

"You know I hate when you do that!" she called out, trying to regain control.

Blackfyre let out a low, amused growl, clearly enjoying himself. Vaelora could feel his smugness, the way he reveled in their mid-air battle for dominance. It was a game they often played, but even in their playful rivalry, there was a deep bond between them. Blackfyre trusted her completely, just as she trusted him. She knew he would never let her fall.

"Oh, you think this is funny? You dumb bitch." she muttered, urging him to straighten out.

In response, Blackfyre picked up speed, his wings beating faster as they shot forward, the wind roaring in Vaelora's ears. She let out an exasperated sigh but couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. They were partners, in every sense of the word—both wild, both headstrong, but always in sync, even when they fought for control.

As they soared higher, Vaelora closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to fully embrace the freedom of the skies. It was moments like this, away from duty and responsibility, where she felt truly alive.

Her brief reprieve was interrupted, however, by a shadow on the horizon. Vaelora's eyes snapped open, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the dark shape approaching Dragonstone. It was a dragon—massive, wild, and unmistakably familiar.