Chapter 7

Author's Note: The big time jump. Please don't hate me.

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, nor any of George RR Martin's works

Rated M for strong language, violence, adult content, adult situations, incest, age-gap relationships, and some sexual content

Enjoy

King's Landing, 126 AC...

"Hurry, Princess! You'll be late!"

Princess Daella hurriedly tied her shoes while Malia, her handmaiden, braided her hair. Her hair was long like her elder sister's but wavy like her father's. Malia had chosen a cream-colored dress with red and gold details for Daella, and a black coat to keep her warm. Daella bid Malia goodbye and rushed out the door. She weaved through the people casually strolling through the castle, nearly knocking down a servant carrying a couple of heavy rugs. "Sorry!" she called out and continued running.

She flew down the stairs to the ground level and crossed through the throne room as a shortcut. At the entry courtyard, a large carriage was waiting. Princess Rhaenyra was turned away, talking with Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Lorent Marbrand. Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys, and Prince Aemond waited patiently by the back wheel of the carriage. Daella hurried to their side, kicking up dirt as she slid to a halt. Aemond used his cloak to fan it away, frowning. "You're late."

"And you're a ray of sunshine as always, brother," she teased, patting the top of his head for good measure. Aemond brushed her off. Daella was four years his elder, a fact she took pride in. That and the three inches of height she had on him. Grand Maester Orwyle claimed Aemond was tall for his age, but Daella had her doubts. She turned her attention to her nephews. "What are you playing with?"

"There's a beetle we've never seen before," Jacaerys said. He pointed to the green-black bug crawling around in front of them. "Do you think Helaena will know what it is?"

"Maybe," Daella mused. "If we had time to bring it to her, I would tell you to grab it."

"There you are!" All four kids raised their heads. Rhaenyra waddled over, her belly swollen with her third child. "We have been waiting for ages, Daella. I told you to be ready hours ago."

"I'm here now," she pointed out, an innocent smile on her face.

Rhaenyra shook her head, rubbing the bottom of her belly. She gestured to the carriage. "Let us go. Our ship has waited long enough."

Ser Harwin assisted Rhaenyra in climbing the steps into the carriage. Jacaerys and Lucerys followed her in, and then Aemond and Daella. Rhaenyra settled onto the bench with her sons on either side of her. Aemond opted to sit on the opposite bench, his perma-frown focused on the window. Daella scooted closer to Aemond to make room for Annora, Rhaenyra's handmaid. The ride to the harbor was unusually bumpy. Each rattle made Rhaenyra wince and grab her stomach. The carriage swayed left and right and then came to a sudden halt. Shouting from the driver could be heard. Aemond noticed Rhaenyra struggling to push herself up. "Should you be traveling in such condition, Princess?"

"I'm fine."

"Should we postpone the trip?" Daella asked.

"I am fine," Rhaenyra insisted, moving a cushion behind her back. "The child is not due for three more weeks. And this is just a routine trip to Dragonstone. Do not expect us to stay any longer than a couple of days. Understand?"

She looked at each one of them and they nodded. The rest of the trip was silent and less painful for the princess. The driver directed the carriage in a U-turn and halted the horses. Some of the men of the City Watch had gathered to keep the dock for the royal family clear of smallfolk. Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent dismounted their horses and helped Rhaenyra out of the carriage. The kids followed after her. Two rowboats waited to ferry them to the ship flying the Targaryen sails. Jacaerys and Lucerys hopped into the one they would share with their mother. Ser Lorent directed Daella and Aemond to the other boat. "Halt!" someone called. "Prince Aemond, halt!"

Ser Criston came running up the dock, his white cloak flowing behind him. "My prince, your mother has summoned you."

Aemond's frown deepened. "What? Why?"

"I did not ask," he said. "Come. Your mother wishes to see you."

"What's going on?" Rhaenyra asked, waddling over.

Ser Criston did not look at her when he spoke. "Her grace, the Queen, has requested that Prince Aemond return to the castle at once."

"But I want to go to Dragonstone," Aemond said. "I've never seen it. I want to see it."

"It's no trouble, Ser Criston," the princess said, ignoring the knight's indifference. "Our trip is short and Dragonstone is quite safe. Prince Aemond asked me himself to accompany us."

Criston met her gaze, his dark eyes cold. "The Queen commands it, Princess."

Aemond clenched his fists, squeezing hard until his anger subsided. He nodded in defeat. He motioned to follow Ser Criston, but Rhaenyra gently tapped his shoulder. "Perhaps on the next trip," she told him.

He halfheartedly nodded. Aemond glanced at Daella and then his nephews before hanging his head and following Ser Criston. Rhaenyra watched them leave, shaking her head disapprovingly. She waved Daella over. "Come. You'll ride with us."

Dragonstone, three days later...

The ancestral home of House Targaryen was as grand and magnificent as it was dark and dull. Daella began to wonder if she was truly a Targaryen as the gloom of her chambers repulsed her. Where is the color? she wondered. At the Red Keep, her room was decorated with various shades of golds and reds and pinks and blues. Her closet was full of dresses of many fine, bright silks. She loved color. Especially silver. Her nephews did not mind the dark stone and black furniture. They enjoyed exploring the castle, racing along the fortress walls to see the riderless and wild dragons fly around the Dragon Mount. Daella found herself walking on those walls quite often, lost in thought as she stared at the Dragon Mount. She was fourteen years old and dragonless. The egg Rhaenyra had chosen for her never hatched. The dragonkeepers suspected it never would and took it as a sign that Daella wasn't a dragonrider.

She tried to prove them wrong, though. The previous year, she met with Dreamfyre. But the she-dragon spurned her, nearly biting Daella's head off when she attempted to mount the pale blue dragon. Fine. Not Dreamfyre, she surmised. She was meant to have a dragon. Daella knew it in her bones.

Maester Gerardys treated the three of them with a visit to the Dragonstone vault. The forgotten Valyrian gold and art did not interest them, it was the books and histories. Lucerys preferred to admire the old maps of Valyria, sounding out the names of the old cities. "Tyria...and Oros... and Kuless...? Kyrless?"

"Kīless," Daella corrected.

"Look at this, children." Maester Gerardys laid out a long scroll. It depicted a list of names and arrows branching out like an ornate tree. "It is your family tree. Going all the way back to the days of Old Valyria before Aenar Targaryen left."

Jacaerys looked over each individual ancestor. Each one had a short paragraph beneath their name with dates and brief physical descriptions. He tapped the one under Aethan Targaryen. "What is gēlenka?"

"Silver-haired," Daella said, pointing out the unique glyphs. "Gēlion is the root word of silver. You can see the unique conjugation based on the character above the root word."

"Very good, Princess," Maester Gerardys praised.

Jacaerys' finger traced the line from parent to child to grandchild, muttering to himself as he read each little paragraph. "They're all silver-haired."

"Yes, silver hair and purple eyes are common Valyrian traits, my Prince."

His shoulders fell. He looked up at the Maester with sad eyes. "Then...I'm not a Valyrian?"

"Of course you are, my Prince. You bear the name Targaryen."

"But I don't have silver hair," he said. "Or purple eyes."

Maester Gerardys furrowed his brows, unsure of how to answer. Daella thought for a moment. "Maester Gerardys, Ser Laenor's grandmother was Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, correct?"

"Yes, Princess."

"She was quite famously known to be a dark-haired beauty," she pointed out. "It was a surprise to all when Princess Rhaenys was born with silver hair."

"That...is true."

"And my grandfather, Lord Rodrik Arryn, also possessed dark curly hair," she added. "Did he not?"

The maester slowly nodded his head. "Yes, I...I believe so."

Daella placed her arm around Jacaerys' shoulders and smiled. "See? It was pure luck that you and your brother happened to inherit dark, curly hair. Never doubt that you are of Valyrian blood. Maester Gerardys speaks true. You are every bit a Targaryen as your mother, as me, as every other Targaryen in our family. And you have your very own dragon."

Jacaerys gave a small smile, leaning his head on his aunt's shoulder. Lucerys jumped up and down, a sudden burst of energy. "When will you get a dragon, Aunt Daella?"

"Hopefully soon. Your mother promised us a visit to the Dragon Mount," she said, releasing Jacaerys. "I will go remind her. She's been so busy, she probably forgot. What will you two do?"

"I have more maps to show the young Princes. Including one of the mysterious Shadowlands," the Maester said with a spooky voice. The young princes cheered in delight.

Inner castle...

Daella found her sister at the Painted Table, speaking to Ser Alyn Massey about the status of the southern wall. Rhaenyra noticed her sister approaching and dismissed her Steward. "Thank you, Ser Alyn."

He bowed to her and then to Daella before leaving the room. Rhaenyra rolled up some scrolls and made notes on a large notebook of hers. "Where are the boys?"

"In the vault with Maester Gerardys," the young princess said. "They sent me to find you."

"Did they, now?"

Daella hummed in response. She approached the table, looking over the many scrolls and papers. "Have you finished everything? My nephews are eager to visit the Dragon Mount. As am I. We should go before it gets too dark, yes?"

"I'm afraid I'm far from finished," Rhaenyra said wistfully. "I still have to meet with the head dragonkeeper, the kennel master...not to mention review the food stores with Lily and Jonas. My head already aches just thinking about it."

"Then how about after?" Daella suggested. "The dragonkeepers can escort us. Ser Lorent could go with us as well. Please, sister."

Rhaenyra sighed. "I know how much you want to visit the Mount, but it isn't possible right now. My duties are too great and our time here is short."

Daella shook her head in disbelief. "You said you would take us to the Mount, take me to the Mount. To find a dragon to bond with. That...That was the sole reason I came with you on this trip."

"I know, I know," she said calmly. "But right now is not a good time, sweet sister. I haven't been able to break away from my meetings. This-" she gestured to the papers "-takes priority. I'm the Princess of Dragonstone and I have to uphold my duties."

"Then I will go myself."

Rhaenyra shook her head. "No, you are too young."

"I'm fourteen years old."

"It is too dangerous. I cannot put you at risk, Daella."

"We leave on the morrow!"

"Yes, and I'm sorry. On the next trip, I promise I will-" Daella stormed off "-Daella!" Rhaenyra motioned to follow her, but a sharp kick to her ribs stopped her. She rubbed her side. "Daella!"

That night...

Daella couldn't sleep. She had refused to join her sister and nephews for supper, but Rhaenyra had ordered her to attend. So Daella refused to eat out of protest. Stewing silently much to her sister's annoyance. She sat on her balcony, arms and head resting on the stone wall as she stared at the smoking Dragon Mount. How long until she could come to Dragonstone again? Rhaenyra will be bedridden once they return to the capital. She'll need to rest once she delivers her baby. The unknown is what angered Daella the most. Rhaenyra, Aegon, Jacaerys, Lucerys...they all had dragon eggs hatch in their cradles. She even heard rumors that her cousins in Dorne had dragons of their own. "Baela named her dragon Moondancer," she recalled Alyssa saying to Rhaenyra one day. Even Uncle's second daughter...

Aemond sympathized with her, Helaena was too preoccupied with her bugs to care, and her father often told her, "having a dragon does not make you a Targaryen, my dear. Your blood does. No one can take that away from you."

Then an idea came to her. Daella jumped to her feet. She went inside and put on her riding boots and grabbed her coat. Jacaerys and Lucerys were fast asleep in their chambers as was Rhaenyra on the floor above. Daella moved like a shadow, careful not to make any noise. The northern side of the keep had a wooden side door that led to the little road between the castle and the Mount. Daella was fortunate the moon was only half full and there was a skeleton crew patrolling the Mount. There were many entrances inside. Numerous dragon caves and smoke vents.

Daella crouched the whole way to the Mount. At one point, she was crawling on her hands and knees through the grass. A dragonkeeper strolled past the main entrance and Daella ducked down. She watched the keeper continue on toward the west side of the Mount. She summoned her courage and bolted. It was pitch black inside. She kept a hand on the wall, taking one step at a time. She felt the wall open up to a hallway to her left and her vision cleared a bit on rows of torches still burning. This must be the way to the keepers' rooms.

She slipped a torch free, nearly dropping the thing. She hadn't expected it to be so heavy. "Come on," she told herself. "You got this."

Resolved, she exited the hallway and headed further into the Mount. She had no idea where she was going. For all she knew, she could walk right into the mountain's heart and perish in the lava never to be found. Daella shook those thoughts from her head. She came upon the end of the main hallway. It was a large, empty, circular room that branched off in various directions. There were no signs above the entryways. No indication of which way she should go. Okay, okay. Think.

She recalled her histories. Books on dragon claiming and stories she heard from her family members. When Viserys told her the story of how he claimed Balerion the Black Dread, he said the dragon's old age played a factor. "Balerion was slow to wake and it took much coaxing to get him to bond with me," he had said. "I suspect he didn't want to be bothered and simply indulged me. Which is why I only flew on him once before he died."

Daella slowly spun, considering picking a random hall to enter. She couldn't say what drove her to do it, but as she spun, she began to sing. A Valyrian lullaby Rhaenyra used to sing to her. "Fire-breather, winged leader...but two heads to a third song..."

A soft rumble caught her attention, but she could not pinpoint the direction it came from. "From my voice: the fires have spoken...," she continued, her voice echoing. "And the price has been paid with blood magic..."

More rumbling. No, growling. Daella turned to the hall to her far right, her heart beating so hard she feared it would burst from her chest. She swallowed her fear and entered the darkness. She sang louder, letting her voice reach the Seven Heavens. "With words of flame, with clear eyes...to bind the three, to you I sing!"

The growling turned to purrs. The sound reverberated through the hall and her body. Oddly, it felt as if the dragon was singing with her. "As one we gather, and with three heads we shall fly as we are destined!" She exited the hall and entered a dragon cove. Various charred bones were scattered about the floor. Daella raised her torch higher, the flames illuminating shiny teeth as long as swords. "Beautifully...freely..."

Daella gently set the torch down on the ground. The dragon lowered its face, moving further into the light. Dark gray with shiny silver horns decorated her face. Her snout was slender and elegant. Sea-green eyes studied the young princess curiously, blinking lazily. Daella smiled at the dragon. "Hello, Silverwing."

The she-dragon grunted and shoved her nose against Daella. The princess latched onto Silverwing's scales, hugging her mouth. Silverwing's nostrils flared, blowing Daella's hair like a great wind. "Lykirī...lykirī," Daella said softly, rubbing hands over Silverwing's upper lip. "Gods, you're even bigger than Dreamfyre."

Silverwing pulled away. Daella caught herself before she fell. The silver she-dragon turned slightly, moving her wings to expose the saddle on her back. Daella was surprised to see it, assuming it had been removed after Queen Alysanne's death. She watched Silverwing curiously, waiting for the dragon's permission. With slow and steady steps, she inched her way toward the saddle. Silverwing allowed her to approach her side. Daella craned her neck as she stared up at the saddle. How was she supposed to climb all that way? She touched Silverwing's side and the she-dragon growled. "Lykirī, Gēltīko," she said, rubbing Silverwing's scales. "Lykirī. Lykirī."

The silver dragon let out a billow of smoke and settled. Daella noticed several strands of thick rope hanging closer to Silverwing's armpit. She grabbed hold of it and waited for Silverwing's reaction. The she-dragon made no move. Daella pulled on the rope. Still no response. Taking it as a sign, Daella gripped the rope tightly and pulled herself up. It was a long climb. Silverwing was the third largest dragon behind the mighty Vhagar and old Vermithor. Once Daella reached the saddle, she noticed Silverwing glancing back at her. Waiting. Impatiently, it seemed. Daella rolled her eyes and hoisted herself into the saddle, pulling up the skirt of her nightgown to sit more comfortably. "Okay," she mumbled, looking around. "Reins...reins...reins?"

She found the reins wrapped around the farther saddle grips. The saddle itself was a bit big. Meant more for a grown woman. Daella hiked her hem up a little further to situate her knees better against the leather. She found the safety belts and secured them to her waist. Silverwing groaned, rising to her feet. "Dohaerās, Gēltīko!" Daella called. "Heptas!"

Silverwing keened and turned around. Daella held onto the saddle grips from the force of the turn. The dragon crawled across her nest to a narrow crevice in the mountain. Daella pressed herself against the saddle as Silverwing slithered through it. The crevice abruptly ended. Fresh air filled Daella's lungs and the cold ocean breeze kissed her exposed legs. She shivered a bit and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Silverwing stretched her wings, yawning and shaking herself awake. Daella held onto the saddle for dear life. She gripped the reins firmly, a surge of confidence and determination spiraling from her heart. "Sōvēs!"

The command spurned the she-dragon into action. Silverwing broke into a run, heading down the mountain as she flapped her wings. Daella braced herself as Silverwing jumped into the air, gliding over the ocean. She flapped her wings harder, rising higher and higher. Daella felt her heart slide up to her throat. Seagulls squawked as they dove out of the way. The light of the half-moon made Silverwing's scales glitter as if she were covered in stars. The she-dragon arched in the sky and for a brief moment, they were weightless. And then Silverwing dove down. Daella screamed. From fear and delight. She pulled on the reins and Silverwing shifted her wings, swooping up and over the Dragon Mount.

Daella squealed as they soared over the water. She pulled on the reins, steering Silverwing left to circle around the island. Daella felt a sort of power creep through her body. Deep in her bones. Like a sixth sense, she was actually aware of Silverwing's behavior. How she she-dragon moved through the air, how she responded to the pull of the reins...it was a connection. Tears blurred her vision and Daella laughed with relief and joy. They flew around the island a few more times, easing into a rhythm that all dragons and their riders knew. Daella directed Silverwing towards the Dragon Mount. As they neared, Daella could see people gathered near the main entrance. Fuck.

Silverwing angled her wings to slow her descent. The onlookers backed away as the normally graceful she-dragon skidded to a halt, her talons scraping against the stone. Silverwing roared in annoyance before settling down. Daella's head felt dizzy from the exhilaration high. She glanced over at the dragonkeepers and guards. Rhaenyra was among them, wearing a fur coat and a furious scowl on her face. Facing the inevitable, Daella climbed down. She readjusted her nightgown and pulled her coat tight around her body. Rhaenyra was shaking her head furiously as Daella approached. "You disobeyed me."

Daella opened her mouth to speak but Rhaenyra continued in her rage, "I forbade you from going to the Dragon Mount. I told you it was too dangerous and you are too young."

"As you can see, I am fine, sister." She gestured to her body. "Cold, but fine."

Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, incredulous. "This isn't a game. You could've been killed, Daella!"

"But I wasn't. I'm safe and uninjured," she said calmly. "And I've bonded with Silverwing."

The she-dragon purred in agreement. Rhaenyra pressed her hands to her face, trying to calm herself. Daella took a tentative step toward her sister. "I am sorry for disobeying. Can you blame me, though? Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have done the same if you were in my position?"

Rhaenyra placed her hands on her hips. She wanted to argue. She wanted to scold her. But as she thought over her sister's words and saw the shy joy in Daella's eyes, her anger subsided. "It was foolish...what you did here tonight. Reckless. Can you not see how much danger you put yourself in? I feared the worst."

Daella nodded. "I do. And I am sorry I worried you."

Rhaenyra sighed, scratching her eyebrow. She turned to the dragonkeeper. "Be sure Silverwing is prepared to leave with us on the morrow."

The dragonkeeper bowed. "Yes, Princess."

She turned back to Daella, gesturing for her to come closer. The young princess smiled to herself as Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her, the other cradling her belly. "You've caused me much grief this night. And the baby."

Daella touched her sister's belly. "I'm sorry, little one. Don't be too angry with me."

Rhaenyra turned her head away to hide the smile forming on her face. They started their walk back to the castle. Rhaenyra rubbed Daella's arm, warming her. "I am happy for you, though. Claiming Silverwing."

"You are?"

"Our great-grandmother would be proud," she said. The two sisters shared a loving look and continued on to the castle.

King's Landing, the next day...

"Your sister is right. It was foolish and reckless."

Daella stood with her head lowered, eyes down as her father scolded her. Rhaenyra had commanded her to tell their father what had transpired. Every last detail. King Viserys reacted as Daella expected. He wheezed as he paced in front of her, echoing nearly everything Rhaenyra had said the night before. Viserys stopped and approached his daughter, placing his only hand on her shoulder. "Well done."

She raised her head in surprise. Viserys smiled, tears in his eyes as he rubbed her arm. "Claiming Silverwing is an impressive feat, Daella. And I can think of no one else worthy enough to ride Queen Alysanne's dragon."

"Thank you, Father." Beaming, she placed a kiss on his cheek.

Viserys slid his hand down her arm to squeeze her own hand. She helped him walk back to his stool beside his model of Old Valyria. He had expanded it greatly over the years. His main focus currently was detailing a dragonpit owned by the Rhunerys Family. "When will your sister be arriving?"

"Mid-day tomorrow, I suspect," she said. "The winds weren't favorable when I left earlier today."

When Daella landed at the dragonpit, the keepers had to turn her away. Silverwing was too big, and the she-dragon had no desire to slither inside. The Red Keep's main courtyard was the only place big enough to land dragons too large for the pit. And there were cozy cliffs below the castle that dragons used to perch on. Vhagar's old nest still resided there. "I should leave you to it," she said. "Septa Marlow is probably impatiently waiting for me."

Viserys nodded with a smile. "Yes, go. Attend to your studies."

Daella curtsied and left her father to his hobby. She walked through the halls with newfound confidence, unable to wipe the proud smile from her face. Things felt right. She had a dragon. Like she was meant to. Daella rounded the corner to the royal apartments and saw someone coming towards her. "Aemond!"

Aemond froze. His frown hardened upon seeing her and he swiftly turned around. Daella furrowed her brows as she watched him disappear into his room. Weird.

She shook it off and entered Helaena's room. Her half-sister sat near the fireplace. Next to her was a box holding various preserved bugs, posed in a way that Grand Maester Orwyle had taught her. Helaena was preparing to add another specimen to her collection. A green-black beetle. "May I sit with you while we wait for the Septa?" Daella asked.

Helaena nodded. Daella had learned over the years that her half-sister disliked physical touch, and needed at least two feet of space around her at all times. If her space was violated, it upset her. She used to cry and cry. Now, she would freeze, retreating inward and wishing to have her space again. Daella made sure to keep that safe space in mind when she sat down. "What is that? It looks familiar."

"Aemond said he found it outside...the day he was supposed to leave with you to Dragonstone," she said. Helaena held up the beetle for her sister to see. "It is quite similar to the dung beetles in the Kingswood...same overall shape, but it is different."

"How so?"

"Gaze upon the starry eye and be swallowed by the sun," she muttered and then said, "it had no interest in dung and the antennae are curved the opposite way."

Daella blinked. "Wait...can you say that again?"

"It had no interest in dung."

"No, no...the part about being swallowed by the sun," Daella pointed out. "Do you mean...do you know something about what's going on in Dorne? Is it about the Martells?"

Helaena only shrugged. "House Martell is the sovereign family in Dorne."

"Yes, but-"

"A dragon has three heads, not four...a debt is owed and Death is owed." Helaena frowned, blinking through her thoughts. She set the beetle down and met Daella's gaze. "What's going on in Dorne?"

Sunspear, Dorne...

Prince Qoren gazed up at the sky. High above the city, four dragons circled. Starfyre spread her wings wide, dwarfing the other three dragons flying around her. A red-orange barrel rolled around the large she-dragon. A white and purple one followed, smaller than the red-orange one, along with a charcoal-colored hatchling. He watched them a few moments longer before leaving the balcony and walking back inside. Maester Garin sat with Aliandra and Coryanne, reviewing the history of Nymeria and her ten-thousand ships. He smiled to himself, watching his daughters study. They both shared Qoren's dark hair, eyes, and olive skin. But they had their mother's beauty. Especially Aliandra.

He turned his attention to the otherside of the room. Alyssa entered, holding hands with their five-year-old son, Qyle. Qoren greeted his son with a warm smile, picking him up. "Where have you been all day?"

"Helping Mama," the boy said.

Qyle was every bit as Dornish as his elder sisters save for his eyes. Purple like his Valyrian ancestors. Alyssa combed her fingers through Qyle's curls with one hand, and gently rubbed her small, rounded belly with the other. "We've been organizing the numerous letters we've been receiving of late. Our son has been a tremendous help."

"I told you. He's as smart as any maester." Qoren kissed his son's forehead and then set him down. Qyle ran off towards his sisters and Maester Garin. Qoren's hands went to Alyssa's stomach. "I never tire of seeing you grow with child."

"And I never tire of hearing your praise when I feel like a whale," she said, kissing him. Her smile faltered and she sighed. "The Triarchy wants to resume negotiations."

Qoren rolled his eyes and headed towards the hall. "No one seems to take "no" for an answer these days. I've made Dorne's position perfectly clear."

Alyssa walked with him. "If they refuse to hear what we have said, we must simply speak louder, Qoren. And what is louder than a dragon?"

He rolled his eyes. "My point exactly. I've already told you. No."

"Fighting has resumed in the Stepstones. Before long, it will turn into war once again," she said. "We should've made fortifications. Pushed the king to assist with supplying men to guard them and protect the trade routes."

"We do not need your uncle."

"Then let us settle this matter with the Triarchy once and for all," she insisted. "Starfyre is for more than just show, Qoren. Lys, Tyrosh, Myr...they need to understand we are serious."

"We have more than just Starfyre," he reminded. "And I am not keen on playing our hand so soon."

Alyssa shook her head in frustration. "Nymeria isn't large enough to carry a rider, and Aenarys and Onyx are still hatchlings. It will be years before they will be useful, another decade even."

"What would you have me do?" he asked, throwing his hands up.

They stopped just before the entrance to the reception room. Alyssa grabbed his hands. "Our alliance with the Seven Kingdoms is a tool, my love. We should send word to the king...to remind them of their duty. The king should be assisting us in keeping the peace in the Stepstones. It is long past time they uphold their part of the deal...or we will take possession of those insufferable rocks ourselves. We brought fire and blood to the Stepstones once. We will do so again."

Qoren placed a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her skin. "Dorne wants for nothing. Dorne needs nothing," he said. "We do not beg or plead for others to save us. We do not hide behind a foreign banner that promises death and destruction to our enemies."

"Qoren, I didn't mean-"

"Perhaps one day, the known world will kneel to the dragons. But not Dorne. Never Dorne, my love," he said softly. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "We remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

End of Chapter 7

Author's Note: The song is the translated lullaby Daemon sang to Vermithor in episode 10. The lyrics belong to David Peterson. Also, I imagine Daella literally being the spitting image of a young Rhaenyra but with wavy hair like Viserys.

High Valyrian Translations:

Gēltīko = Silverwing (This is my guess)

Heptas! = Climb!