Stepstones, Bloodstone – 131 AC

Daemon and I had been enjoying a rare moment of peace in our chambers, wrapped up in each other and the blissful silence that only comes when the demands of the world fade away. Daeron and Joffrey were entertaining Baela and Rhaena, and for once, there were no urgent matters, no crises demanding our attention. Just us, in the warm, dim light of our private sanctuary. For a few stolen moments, it felt like nothing else existed but the two of us.

But then, that peace was shattered. The distant, gut-wrenching cries of dragons—two dragons—tore through the air, a sound that sent a jolt of dread straight to my heart. Before I could even process it, Daemon was already moving, leaping from the bed and rushing to the balcony. I followed, my mind racing, fear gripping me tight as I tried to understand what could have caused such a terrible sound.

When we reached the balcony, the sight that met my eyes made my blood run cold. There, darting through the sky above Bloodstone, was Lucerys's dragon, Ghost, his snow-white scales marred with soot, struggling to stay ahead of the monstrous beast that chased him. The Cannibal, black as night, massive and terrifying, was hot on Ghost's tail, his jaws snapping with a ferocity that made my stomach twist in fear. It was a nightmare come to life, the kind of terror you hope to never witness in the waking world.

A cry escaped my lips, a sound born of pure, unfiltered fear. "Lucerys!"

I could hardly breathe, the sight of my niece—no, my daughter in all but blood—being hunted like prey by that monster paralyzed me where I stood. Daemon was beside me, cursing under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury as he shouted for Caraxes. The Bloody Wyrm responded immediately, his deep roar echoing through the air as he appeared above the castle, his wings beating powerfully as he prepared for battle.

"Stay here!" Daemon commanded, but the words were empty even as he said them. We both knew I wouldn't, couldn't, just stay put and watch. He didn't wait for my reply, didn't waste another second. He was already moving, jumping onto Caraxes's back, the red dragon taking to the skies with a thunderous flap of his wings. They shot off after Ghost and Cannibal, the air rippling with the force of their flight.

It took me a moment to find my strength, to force my frozen limbs into action. But when I did, there was no stopping me. I tore through the corridors of the Crimson Hall, ignoring the startled looks of the servants as I raced past them. There was only one thought in my mind, one goal that drove me forward—I had to reach Vhagar. I had to be there for Lucerys, for Daemon. I wouldn't let them face this alone.

When I reached the beach, Vhagar was already waiting for me, her ancient eyes watching the skies with a deep, knowing gaze. But it wasn't just Vhagar who was there. Daeron, Joffrey, Rhaena, and Baela had all gathered as well, their faces pale with fear and determination. Joffrey looked like he was on the verge of tears, his eyes wide and panicked. I knew that look all too well—it was the look of a brother who was terrified for his sister.

"Aunt!" Daeron's voice was tight with worry, his usually calm demeanor frayed at the edges. He looked at me with a mixture of fear and resolve, Tessarion beside him, her blue scales glinting in the dim light. Moondancer was with them as well, Rhaena's small but fierce dragon pacing restlessly by Vhagar's side.

I didn't waste any time. "No," I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. "You're not going. None of you are risking yourselves against Cannibal."

"But—" Baela started, her voice shaking with the fear she was trying so hard to suppress. She looked at me with eyes that mirrored my own, filled with the same stubborn determination that I knew so well. "Mother, we can help! We can fight!"

"No," I repeated, even more forcefully this time. My heart ached to see her like this, ready to charge into battle, but I couldn't let it happen. "You don't understand. Cannibal isn't just any dragon. He's a beast of the old world, wild and ruthless. We've already lost too much to him—I'm not losing you too."

Daeron opened his mouth to argue, but one look at my face and he fell silent. He exchanged a look with Baela, a silent conversation passing between them, before he finally nodded, his shoulders slumping in reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he said, his voice low. "But be careful, Aunt. Please."

Joffrey, standing beside Tessarion, looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, he just nodded, biting his lip as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Rhaena stepped forward, her hand reaching out to grasp mine. "Bring them back," she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained tears. "Please, just bring them back."

I squeezed her hand, my heart breaking at the fear and desperation in her voice. "I will," I promised, even though I knew it was a promise I might not be able to keep. But I would try, Gods help me, I would try.

With one last look at my children, I turned and climbed onto Vhagar's back. The old dragon rumbled in understanding, her great wings unfurling as she prepared to take flight. I felt the weight of my children's eyes on me, felt the burden of their hopes and fears as Vhagar lifted off the ground, her powerful wings carrying us into the sky.

"Please," I whispered, my voice lost in the wind. "Please let them be okay."

We reached the battlefield in seconds, though it felt like an eternity. Cannibal was thrashing wildly, blood streaming from his ruined eyes, his roars of rage and pain filling the sky. But even blinded, he was a force to be reckoned with, his massive tail lashing out, his jaws snapping at anything that came close.

And then there was Ghost, fighting with a determination that took my breath away. Despite his injuries, despite the odds, he refused to back down. I watched as he circled around Cannibal, his movements precise and deadly, his talons and teeth flashing as he went for the kill.

"Dracarys!" Lucerys's voice rang out, strong and clear, and Ghost obeyed without hesitation. Flames burst from his jaws, engulfing Cannibal's head, the fire so intense it seared the very air around it. Cannibal roared, a sound of pure agony, as the fire consumed him.

But Lucerys wasn't done. "Go for the throat!" she commanded, and Ghost responded with a ferocity that was almost terrifying. He lunged at Cannibal, his fangs sinking deep into the massive dragon's neck, ripping through flesh and bone with a force that left no doubt as to who the victor was.

Cannibal's death was violent, brutal, the kind of end befitting a creature as monstrous as he was. And when it was over, when the black beast finally went still, his blood soaking the rocks below, I felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocked me off Vhagar's back.

But then, as the adrenaline faded, I saw Ghost falter. His wings, already damaged, gave out, and he collapsed onto the corpse of the Cannibal, his massive form shuddering as he hit the ground. Lucerys's cry of "Ghost!" echoed in the air, filled with panic, with fear, and I felt my heart drop.

I urged Vhagar forward, the scene before me stole the breath from my lungs. My sweet, kind Lucerys, the girl I'd watched grow up with a heart full of love and gentleness, had just done the impossible—she had slain the Cannibal, the most monstrous dragon ever to have darkened the skies of Westeros. Cannibal's corpse lay broken and bleeding atop a jagged pile of rocks, his once-mighty form reduced to a twisted, mangled heap. The rocks beneath him didn't even form a proper island, just a barren outcrop, a fitting grave for a creature as vile as he had been.

But it wasn't the sight of Cannibal that made my heart clench with fear—it was Ghost. He lay sprawled over Cannibal's lifeless body, his pure white scales now marred with blood and ash, his wing a blackened mess where the fire had burned through. And Lucerys—my brave, beautiful niece—was there, crumpled beside him, her small hands clutching desperately at his head, her sobs echoing in the stillness of the aftermath. She was begging him to wake up, to open his eyes, but Ghost didn't stir. He was still breathing, thank the Gods, but he was out cold, and I could see the fear eating away at Lucerys, driving her into a state of frantic despair.

My heart ached for her, for the pain and fear that she was drowning in, and I wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But before I could move, Daemon acted. He was already on Caraxes, the Bloody Wyrm circling above like a sentinel, his red scales glowing in the fading light. Daemon had seen enough battles to know what needed to be done, and he wasted no time.

"Lucerys!" he called out, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of her grief. "Come up here! Get on Caraxes!"

But Lucerys wasn't listening. She was too far gone, her mind clouded with adrenaline, fear, and the overwhelming sadness that comes when you think you might lose the one thing that means the most to you. She clung to Ghost like a lifeline, her sobs growing more desperate, her hands gripping his bloodstained scales as if she could somehow pull him back to consciousness through sheer will alone.

Daemon cursed under his breath, his face a mask of frustration and determination. He knew that they couldn't stay here, exposed and vulnerable, not with the possibility of more danger lurking nearby. But he also knew that Lucerys wasn't in any state to think clearly, to make the rational choice. So, with a heavy sigh, he made the decision for her.

He guided Caraxes closer to the ground, his dragon's massive form hovering just above the rocks where Lucerys and Ghost lay. Then, without warning, Daemon jumped down, landing with the grace of a man half his age. He didn't waste a second—he strode over to Lucerys, his expression softening as he reached her side.

"Lucerys," he said, his voice gentler now, though there was still a firmness beneath it. "We need to go. Ghost will be alright, but we have to get you to safety."

But she wasn't hearing him, wasn't seeing anything beyond the still form of her dragon. "No!" she cried, her voice breaking with the weight of her emotions. "I can't leave him! He needs me, Kepus Daemon, he needs me!"

Daemon knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. "He needs you to be strong, Lucerys. He needs you to survive. And that means getting on Caraxes with me, now."

But Lucerys just shook her head, her tears falling freely as she buried her face in Ghost's neck. "I can't… I can't leave him…"

Daemon's patience, already thin, snapped. He wasn't a man who dealt well with stubbornness, even in the best of times, and this was far from that. With a muttered oath, he wrapped his arms around Lucerys, lifting her up despite her struggles. She kicked and screamed, her fists pounding against his chest, but Daemon held on tight, his face set in a grim line as he carried her back to Caraxes.

"I'm sorry, Lucerys," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "But I can't let you die here."

With a grunt of effort, Daemon climbed back onto Caraxes, Lucerys still struggling in his arms. Once he was seated, he secured her in front of him, holding her close as she continued to sob, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. It was heartbreaking to watch, but there was no other way. Daemon knew that, and so did I.

But my part in this wasn't over. I turned to Vhagar, who had been watching the whole scene with the calm patience of a dragon who had seen it all before. "Gently, girl," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I placed a hand on her side. "We need to get Ghost back to Bloodstone."

Vhagar rumbled in acknowledgment, lowering her massive form toward Ghost's prone form. With a carefulness that belied her size, she reached out with her talons, grasping Ghost's body with a gentleness that made my heart swell with gratitude. The last thing I wanted was for Lucerys to lose her dragon after everything she'd been through.

With a deep breath, I urged Vhagar into the air, her wings beating powerfully as we rose above the beach. Below me, I could see Ghost's limp form hanging from Vhagar's talons, his once-bright scales now dull with blood and ash. Lucerys's sobs had quieted, but I could still hear them, a soft, heartbreaking sound that tugged at every maternal instinct I had.

We flew in silence, the only sound was the rush of wind and the steady beat of dragon wings. Caraxes led the way, his red scales a stark contrast against the darkening sky, with Vhagar following close behind, her burden heavy but carefully held. I couldn't stop the worry that gnawed at me—Ghost was strong, but his injuries were severe, and I didn't know how much more he could take.

As we neared Bloodstone, I could see the faint lights of the castle below, a beacon in the growing darkness. We were almost there, almost to safety, but I couldn't shake the fear that had settled in my chest. I prayed to every God I knew that Ghost would survive this, that Lucerys wouldn't have to face the loss of her dragon after all she had been through.

Vhagar landed on the beach of Bloodstone with the kind of gentle grace that only an ancient dragon could muster, her massive talons cradling Ghost's limp form as if he were a hatchling and not a full-grown dragon. The sight of Ghost, usually so graceful and imposing, now lying motionless with his wing blackened and torn, sent a cold wave of dread washing over me. My feet hit the ground, but my legs felt like they might give out beneath me.

As I hurried toward Ghost, I was met by Rhaena, her face pale and drawn with worry. The moment her eyes landed on Ghost, a heart-wrenching cry escaped her lips, and she rushed forward, tears already spilling down her cheeks. I caught her in my arms, holding her close as she sobbed into my shoulder. "Mother," she whispered, her voice broken. "Is he… is Ghost going to be, okay?"

I wanted to tell her yes, that everything would be fine, that Ghost would be up and flying again in no time. But I couldn't lie to her, not when I could see the extent of his injuries. So, I did what any mother would do—I stroked her hair, whispered soothing words, and held her as tightly as I could. "He's strong, Rhaena," I murmured, my voice soft but steady. "He's strong, just like Lucerys. They both fought so hard, and now they need time to heal. We'll do everything we can to help them."

Daeron and Baela stood nearby, their faces a mix of shock and confusion. Unlike Rhaena, who wore her emotions on her sleeve, Daeron's face was set in a mask of calm, though I could see the tension in his posture. Baela, on the other hand, watched everything with wide, unblinking eyes, as if trying to make sense of the chaos that had just unfolded.

"What happened?" Daeron asked, his voice as steady as a stone. He wasn't just asking about Ghost—he wanted the whole story. He needed to understand what had brought his family to this moment, what had driven his sister and her dragon to such desperate measures.

"Ghost and Lucerys… they killed Cannibal," I said, my voice thick with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "They fought him, and they won. But it cost them Daeron. It cost them dearly."

Baela's eyes flicked to Ghost, and though she tried to keep her expression neutral, I could see the fear lurking beneath the surface. She was trying to be strong, trying to be the warrior she had always aspired to be, but the sight of Ghost, so battered and broken, was too much for her to process.

Joffrey, who had been hovering at the edge of the scene, suddenly broke into a run, his legs carrying him as fast as they could toward Daemon. My heart clenched as I saw Daemon approaching, carrying Lucerys in his arms. Her face, usually so full of life, was pale and streaked with tears, her eyes closed as if she were in a deep, troubled sleep.

Joffrey reached them first, his face crumpling with worry as he looked up at his father. "Is Lucerys going to be okay, Kepus?" he asked, his voice small and trembling. He was trying to be brave, trying to be the strong brother, but he was still young, and the fear in his eyes broke my heart all over again.

Daemon's face was like stone, hard and unyielding, as he looked down at his son. "She'll live," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "She just needs rest." But even as he said it, I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked over Lucerys's still form with something that looked an awful lot like fear. It was rare to see Daemon shaken, but there was no mistaking the way he held Lucerys as if she might disappear if he let go.

I stepped forward, feeling Rhaena's grip tighten on my arm as I approached Daemon. "Daemon," I said softly, "What did she say before she fainted?"

Daemon's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw something raw and vulnerable flicker in his gaze before it was swallowed up by the cold resolve that always seemed to define him. "She said the Triarchy and Dorne are working together," he replied, his voice low and grim. "They've placed dragon-killing scorpions around the Stepstones. They're preparing for war, Laena."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. War. The one thing we had fought so hard to avoid, the one thing that had already cost us so much, was coming back to the Stepstones. And this time, it wasn't just the Triarchy we had to worry about—it was Dorne as well. My mind raced, trying to piece together what this meant, what we needed to do, but all I could think about was the bloodshed that was sure to follow.

"They're trying to break us before we can regroup," Daeron said quietly, his voice betraying his years of experience beyond what any boy his age should have had. "If they control the Stepstones, they control the Narrow Sea. They'll cut off our supply lines, our allies…"

"And they'll be ready to strike at us before we can strike back," Daemon finished, his eyes narrowing as he looked out toward the horizon, where the sea met the sky. "We need to act fast, Laena. We can't let them gain the upper hand."

I nodded, feeling the weight of the responsibility that was being placed on our shoulders. We had been through so much already—lost so much—but now it seemed that the gods weren't done testing us. But even as fear gnawed at my insides, I couldn't let it show. Not in front of my children, not in front of Daemon. We had to be strong, for them, for Lucerys, for everyone who depended on us.

"We'll send word to Rhaenyra and Laenor," I said, my voice firm despite the chaos inside me. "They need to know what's coming. We'll gather our forces, prepare the defenses… and we'll protect our home, no matter the cost."

Daemon gave a short, sharp nod, his hand tightening around Lucerys as if to remind himself that she was still there, still alive. "I'll take Caraxes and scout the area, see how many scorpions they have in place, and how soon they'll be ready to strike. We need to know what we're up against."

I could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that had always driven him, and I knew he was already planning the next steps, already thinking of how to turn this to our advantage. But as much as I admired that about him, as much as I relied on his strength, I also knew that there was no winning this war without sacrifices, without pain. And I feared what it would cost us this time.

"Daemon," I said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "Be careful. Please."

He glanced at me, the hard lines of his face softening for just a moment. "I always am," he replied, though we both knew that wasn't entirely true. Daemon was many things, but cautious wasn't one of them. Still, he gave me a small, reassuring smile before turning back to Caraxes, his determination set in stone.

I watched as he handed Lucerys to Daeron and then climbed onto his dragon, and my heart ached with a mixture of pride and fear. As Caraxes took to the sky, I felt a tear slip down my cheek, though I quickly wiped it away. There was no time for tears, no time for fear. We had to be strong. We had to fight.

I looked back at my children and wards—Rhaena, Baela, Daeron, and Joffrey—all standing there, their faces pale but resolute. They were watching us, depending on us, and I knew that we couldn't let them down. I looked at Lucerys, still in Daeron's arms, and then at Ghost, who was out cold on the beach.

"Come on," I said, my voice firmer now. "We have work to do."

We turned and made our way back to the castle, the weight of what was coming heavy on our shoulders. War was returning to the Stepstones, and this time, there would be no holding back. We would fight, we would bleed, and we would do whatever it took to protect our family, our home.

Because that's what we do. That's who we are.

And the Gods help anyone who stands in our way.