Bloodstone, Crimson Hall – 132 AC

With Harwin Strong safely on his way to King's Landing, I felt an odd sense of relief wash over me. It wasn't just that Harwin was strong, loyal, and damn near impossible to kill—it was the knowledge that with him there, Rhaenyra and the children would be safe. He'd keep them protected while the rest of us dealt with this mess. And if things went sideways, he wouldn't hesitate to do what was necessary. Harwin had always been good at that—knowing when to follow orders and when to break them.

I didn't kid myself about how things worked in Westeros. Loyalty could be bought or sold quicker than a Dornish apple, but Harwin? He was family. And family was the only currency that really mattered in the end.

When Ser Qarl finally arrived, it was like a weight I hadn't even realized I'd been carrying lifted off my shoulders. There he was, standing at the gates, looking every bit the same as when I'd last seen him, and yet the moment felt like something out of a dream. He'd come back to me, just as I knew he would. And he wasn't empty-handed, either—he'd brought Rhaenyra's permission, the royal seal shimmering on the parchment he carried.

I'd like to say my first thought was of duty, of the war, of the conquest of Tyrosh, but that'd be a lie, wouldn't it? The moment I saw Qarl, the only thing that mattered was him. He hadn't changed much—still had that same cocky grin, that same look in his eyes that said he knew exactly what I was thinking before I even thought it.

He held up the letter with a grin, as if it were some kind of gift, he'd personally wrapped for me. "From the queen herself," he said, his voice dripping with that casual swagger that never failed to make me smile. "She gives her blessing for the conquest. Tyrosh will be yours, and she says to take it in her name—and for Joffrey."

For Joffrey. That part hit me harder than I expected. I hadn't forgotten about my son, of course. I never could. But hearing it like that, hearing Rhaenyra's words, made it real. The war, the politics, the conquest—it wasn't just for me or for our House. It was for him. For the future we'd carve out for him. For the legacy we'd leave behind.

Still, that didn't stop me from smiling like an idiot when I looked at Qarl. Tyrosh could wait. The war could wait. The moment? That was ours.

"You've brought me quite the prize," I said, stepping closer to him, my voice low, playful. I could see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips curled at the corners. We both knew what this was—our own game, our own world, one that existed outside the chaos of court and war.

"Well, I thought you deserved a little something after all this time," he replied, his grin widening. "I've missed you."

"Have you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, my tone teasing.

He didn't answer with words. He didn't have to. The next moment, his hand was at the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that said more than any letter or blessing from the queen ever could. It was hungry, desperate even, and I could feel the months of separation between us in the way his fingers tightened in my hair, the way his lips moved against mine. He tasted like salt and steel, like the sea and battle, and it was everything I'd missed.

For a moment, the world fell away. It all dissolved into nothing, and there was only Qarl. Only us.

When we finally broke apart, he was grinning again, that cocky bastard. "I didn't come all this way for a bloody letter, you know."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest, the tension of the past weeks melting away. "Oh, I know," I said, my voice low, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "And I'm going to make damn sure you're rewarded for it."

We didn't waste any more time with words. The door to my chambers closed behind us, and the moment we were alone, the armor came off—both literally and figuratively. He undressed me with the same ease as always, his hands rough but familiar, the scars on my skin nothing new to him. We'd seen each other at our best and worst, and right now, all I wanted was to feel him against me, to remind myself that there was still something in this gods-forsaken world that made sense.

He pushed me onto the bed, and I went willingly, the familiar weight of his body pressing down on mine, grounding me in a way that nothing else could. There was no pretense between us, no need for formalities. We knew each other too well for that.

"You still fight like you're trying to impress someone," I muttered against his lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth as he hovered above me.

"Maybe I am," he shot back, his grin wicked as he nipped at my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

"And who might that be?" I asked, my hands already running down his back, fingers tracing the muscles that had only grown more defined in his time away.

"Oh, I think you know," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

I laughed again, the sound muffled by his mouth on mine, and for the next few hours, there was nothing but the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, and the sweet, blessed relief of being home in a way that only Qarl could make me feel.

When it was over, we lay there in the tangled mess of sheets and limbs, my head resting on his chest as our breathing slowly returned to normal. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget about everything else.

But only for a moment.

Because as much as I wanted to lose myself in this, I knew what was coming. Tyrosh. The war. The weight of everything we'd been planning.

Qarl must have sensed it, because he let out a soft sigh, his hand running through my hair, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my scalp. "You're thinking too much again," he muttered.

"I'm always thinking too much," I replied, my voice a little more tired than I meant it to sound.

"Well, stop," he said, his tone half playful, half serious. "At least for tonight."

I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a rare moment of peace. "Just for tonight," I agreed, my voice soft, my body already sinking into the warmth of his.

The war would still be there in the morning. The conquest of Tyrosh would come. But tonight? Tonight was for us.

The kiss was hungry, desperate—like we were trying to make up for all the lost time in one single moment. My hands moved to his waist, tugging at the layers of armor and clothing, and he chuckled softly against my lips, his breath warm against my skin.

"In a hurry, are we?" he teased, though his own hands were just as eager, already working to remove my tunic, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back.

"Too long," I muttered against his mouth, my voice rough with want. "It's been too long."

Qarl didn't argue. He never did when it came to this. Instead, he pulled me closer, his hands moving over my body with a familiarity that was both comforting and electrifying at once. He knew every scar, every line, every inch of me, and as he undressed me with that practiced ease, I felt myself relax into him completely.

His touch was firm but gentle, grounding me in a way nothing else ever could. We moved together, the rest of the world falling away as we sank onto the bed, our bodies entwined, the heat between us building slowly but steadily. There was no need for words—there never had been. Every touch, every kiss, every breath spoke more than any conversation ever could.

Qarl's fingers traced down my spine, sending shivers through me, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my breath ragged as I pulled him closer. The tension that had been building inside me for weeks—the stress of the war, the fear for our children, the weight of my duty—it all melted away as we moved together, lost in the rhythm of each other. He was my anchor in this storm, and in this moment, there was nothing but him.

When it was over, we lay together in the mess of sheets, our bodies still warm from the heat of it, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt... whole.

Qarl's hand idly ran through my hair, his fingers gentle as they traced over my scalp, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensation lull me into a rare moment of peace. After a long silence, I broke it with the question that had been lingering in my mind ever since he arrived. "How's King's Landing?" I asked, my voice low but curious.

Qarl's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. "The city's just as it's always been," he said, his voice filled with that casual ease I'd missed so much. "Barely touched by the war at Dorne or the Stepstones. It's almost like they don't even know it's happening. Life goes on, Laenor. The smallfolk are too busy with their own troubles to care about what's happening beyond the walls."

I nodded, though the real concern was for my family, not the smallfolk. "And Rhaenyra? The children?"

"They're all safe," Qarl assured me, his hand still running through my hair. "Harwin's back at court, so you know they're protected. But your grandchildren—Aelora and Aelor—Gods, Laenor, they're something else."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. That was good. At least for now, the capital was untouched by the chaos brewing in the south. That was a relief. My heart warmed at the mention of my grandchildren, though I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to seem too eager. "Tell me more."

Qarl chuckled, clearly picking up on my attempt at casual indifference, but he indulged me anyway. "They've both bonded with their hatchling dragons. Aelora's is named Morghul—a fierce little thing, already snapping at anyone who gets too close to her. And Aelor's dragon is Shrykos—smaller than Morghul but just as spirited."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "And what of the twins? How are they handling their dragons?"

Qarl's face lit up, as it always did when he talked about the children. He leaned back, resting his head on the pillow again, his arm lazily draped across my waist. "If I didn't know better, I would have said that Helaena conceived the twins herself. They have her gold-silver hair and amethyst eyes. But if you look closer you will notice that they inherited Jacaerys' curls, mouth, and nose."

It warmed my heart to hear about my grandchildren. I could not wait to meet them, if it were up to me, I would climb on Seasmoke and ride towards King's Landing. However, Tyrosh needs to fall under our command first.

"Aelora is showing everyone that she is Rhaenyra's grandchild. Already outspoken in her babbles, shrieking whenever anyone who is not family holds her. She reaches out towards anything that is dangled before her and will show her displeasure if anyone tried to place themselves between her and her twin." Qarl chuckled, a soft sound that rumbled through his chest. "Aelor's more… thoughtful. He's always watching, always observing. Quiet, like his mother, but you can tell he's got that same spark as his twin and all of Rhaenyra's children."

I could picture it clearly—Aelora and Aelor, the future of House Targaryen and House Velaryon secure in their hands. It filled me with a sense of pride I hadn't felt in a long time. Since the birth of my children. Jacaerys had done well, as had Helaena. The twins will grow up strong, with dragons at their side, and the realm would be better for it.

But there was more to it than just pride. There was relief. Relief that despite the war, despite the chaos, life was still moving forward. The children have been born safely. The future we were building was still taking shape, even in the shadow of war.

Qarl said, his voice soft as he traced a finger along my arm. "The smallfolk are starting to sing songs about them. The dragon twins."

A quiet laugh escaped me at that. "Songs, you say? They haven't even seen a moon yet, much less a battle."

Qarl smirked. "That doesn't matter. The people love a good story, and the twins, with their dragons and their bright futures, make for a good story. They're the hope of the realm, whether they know it yet or not."

I hummed in response, letting the warmth of Qarl's words and the steady thrum of his heartbeat lull me into a sense of peace I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. Knowing that the children were safe, that the city was untouched, that our family was thriving—it made everything else feel a little more bearable.

As I lay there, nestled against Qarl, I let myself dream for a moment. Curled up beside Qarl, the warmth of his body keeping the chill of the world at bay, I let myself believe that we could have that future. That our family, our children, our grandchildren, would see the day when the fires of war finally went out.

And when I closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep, it was with the sound of dragons' wings in my ears and the promise of a better tomorrow close to reach.

The next morning came too soon, as mornings tend to do. The warmth of Qarl's body beside mine had faded, replaced by the cool light filtering in through the chamber windows. For a moment, I considered staying there, wrapped in the remnants of last night's peace, ignoring the world outside. But there was too much to do, and as much as I enjoyed pretending, we had all the time in the world, I knew better.

With a groan, I sat up, stretching out the stiffness from my body, and glanced over at Qarl, who was already awake, propped up on one elbow and watching me with that lazy grin of his. "Up already, are we?" he teased, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Don't act so surprised," I shot back, smirking. "We've got work to do."

Qarl stretched out beside me, his muscles rippling under his skin, and for a brief moment, I was tempted to drag him back into bed. But duty was a harsh mistress, and we both knew it. With a sigh, I stood and began to dress, pulling on the familiar weight of my tunic and breeches. Qarl followed suit, though at a much more leisurely pace, clearly enjoying the fact that we weren't in any immediate rush.

Once we were dressed and ready to face the day, we left the chamber side by side, the tension between us from last night gone, replaced by a quiet understanding. There were things to discuss, decisions to make, and battles to plan, but for now, we could enjoy a rare moment of peace.

We walked together through the castle halls, the sounds of the Crimson Hall coming to life around us—soldiers preparing for the next march, servants bustling about with their morning tasks. The world hadn't stopped just because we'd taken a night for ourselves, but that was the way of things. Life went on, whether we were ready for it or not.

As we made our way toward the garden, the soft scent of flowers greeted us, mingling with the salt of the sea air. It was a stark contrast to the scent of war that had been clinging to everything lately, and I breathed it in deeply, letting it clear my mind for a moment. I could already hear the sound of laughter as we approached, and my heart lifted at the sound—light, genuine, and completely unexpected.

We turned the corner, and there they were.

Lucerys, my daughter, my fierce, beautiful daughter, was sitting beside Aemond in the garden. She was smiling—no, laughing—her head tilted back, the sun catching the curve of her neck as she grinned at Aemond, who was sitting with a hand covering his bandaged eye, a smile of his own tugging at his lips. The two of them looked so… normal. Like the past few weeks of grief, rage, and bloodshed hadn't happened. Like everything was just as it should be.

Lucerys was back to her old self.

The sight hit me harder than I expected. For so long, she'd been lost in her own pain, consumed by the terror of almost losing her dragon, Ghost, and everything that had happened since. But now? Now she was smiling again. That sharp wit of hers was back, and there was a lightness in her that I hadn't seen in far too long.

"Good to see her like this," I muttered, more to myself than to Qarl.

"She's a tough one, your daughter," Qarl replied softly, his gaze lingering on the two of them. "I'll admit, I was worried. But seeing her now? She's stronger than most would be."

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. Lucerys was a force of nature—always had been—but seeing her come out the other side of this, after everything, it was more than just a relief. It was like a weight had lifted off my chest, a weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

We stood there for a moment, watching them. Lucerys was sitting cross-legged on the ground, her hands moving as she spoke, gesturing wildly in that way she always did when she was excited or caught up in a story. Aemond, for his part, seemed content just to listen, his gaze fixed on her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He looked better than I'd expected, considering the circumstances. His face was still bruised, the bandage over his missing eye a stark reminder of what he'd lost. But there was no bitterness in his expression, no anger or resentment. Just… relief. Relief that Lucerys was there beside him, laughing and teasing him as if nothing had changed.

Qarl, ever the observant one, picked up on it immediately. "It's her, you know," he said quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "She's the reason he's not losing his mind over that eye. Losing something like that—it could break a man. But with her back to her old self, Aemond's holding on."

I glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Qarl nodded, his gaze still fixed on Aemond. "Aye. It's obvious, isn't it? He'd be spiraling if she wasn't here. But look at him. He's smiling. Laughing, even. You don't see that kind of resilience in someone who's alone. He's got her. That's enough for him."

I followed Qarl's gaze, watching as Lucerys reached out to playfully swat Aemond's arm, her laughter ringing through the air. Aemond's good eye widened in mock offense before he laughed along with her, shaking his head. There was something soft in his expression, something almost vulnerable.

Gods, Qarl was right. Aemond was holding it together better than I'd ever expected. For someone who had always been so proud, so driven by perfection, the fact that he could still smile, still laugh after losing such a vital part of himself—that was no small feat. But then again, Lucerys had always been his balance, the one who kept him grounded. She was more than just his betrothed; she was his tether to the person he wanted to be, not the warrior the world expected him to become.

And I couldn't deny the pride I felt swelling in my chest. My daughter had been through hell and back, but she was still here, still smiling, still strong enough to lift others up with her. Strong enough to keep Aemond from falling apart when the world had every right to crush him.

As I watched them, laughing and teasing each other, I felt something settle deep in my chest. A sense of peace. With a smile tugging at my lips, I glanced over at Qarl, catching his eye. "Come on," I said, my voice low. "Let's give them some privacy. We've got a conquest to plan."

Qarl grinned, nodding as he followed me back toward the castle, leaving Lucerys and Aemond to their laughter.

As Qarl and I turned to leave the garden, the sound of soft footsteps behind us made me glance back. Laena was there, her graceful form moving through the morning light with that quiet confidence she always carried, the kind that made everyone around her feel like they had a chance, no matter how grim things seemed. She smiled as she caught sight of us, her eyes flicking from me to Qarl, then settling on Lucerys and Aemond, who were still walking slowly along the garden's path, Lucerys guiding him every so often when he faltered.

Aemond was still getting used to his newfound limitations, I supposed. Losing an eye wasn't something you just got over in a day, no matter how well you covered it with a pearl. But with Lucerys by his side, he was managing. It was almost amusing watching her help steady him, her hand gently gripping his arm whenever he misjudged his steps, as if she were the one protecting him. The roles were reversed, but neither of them seemed to care.

Laena sidled up next to me and Qarl, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched the young couple. "Look at them," she said with a soft chuckle. "It's good to see them like this."

I nodded in agreement. "Aye, it is. I was worried Lucerys wouldn't come back to herself after everything, but here she is, bossing him around as if nothing's changed."

Qarl grinned beside me. "She's definitely inherited the family's stubborn streak."

Laena smiled but didn't say anything, her gaze fixed on Lucerys, who was now laughing at something Aemond had muttered under his breath. The two of them looked... happy. Genuinely happy. It was strange seeing Aemond so lighthearted, so relaxed. He was always the brooding one, the one who carried the weight of his family's legacy on his shoulders like it was his birthright to suffer. But now? Now he was just a young man in love, walking with his betrothed in the gardens, teasing her in a way that made him look almost—dare I say it—normal.

Laena leaned in a bit closer, her voice quieter but still warm. "The dragonkeepers that arrived a moon ago have finally made progress. The High Valyrian scrolls that Aemond had sent for from Dragonstone were the breakthrough Ghost needed."

That caught my attention. "Scrolls? For Ghost?"

Laena nodded, her expression softening as she spoke. "Aye, those scrolls were exactly what we needed. They contained detailed notes on old Valyrian dragon-healing techniques. The dragonkeepers worked through the moon, applying the poultices and techniques described. Ghost is... well, he's out of the cave now."

My heart skipped a beat at that. Ghost had been in that cave for so long after the attack, his snow-white scales charred black from Cannibal's fire. I wasn't sure if Lucerys would ever recover if he didn't. If Ghost couldn't fly again, I feared that Lucerys might never truly be whole.

"He's really out?" I asked, not quite daring to believe it.

Laena smiled. "He is. I saw him myself this morning. He's been moving his wings, testing them out. He's still cautious, still recovering, but it won't be long now. He'll fly again soon."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Ghost, that majestic snow-white beast, beaten but not broken. It was almost poetic, really. Just like his rider. Lucerys had suffered too, lost herself in the grief of nearly losing her dragon, but now here she was, back in the sunlight, laughing and teasing Aemond like she hadn't just gone through her own personal hell. And now Ghost was following suit.

"Does she know?" I asked, nodding toward Lucerys, who was still steadying Aemond as they walked along the garden path.

"Not yet," Laena said softly. "I thought it would be better if she saw him for herself." Laena let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms as she watched the two of them. "They balance each other, don't they?" she said, her voice thoughtful. "Lucerys keeps Aemond from going too far in his anger, his pride. And Aemond... well, he keeps her from being consumed by her own grief."

It was true. Lucerys and Aemond were opposites in so many ways, but that was why they worked. Where Aemond was all sharp edges, Lucerys was soft, with a warmth that could melt through his icy resolve. And where Lucerys had the tendency to retreat into herself when things got tough, Aemond's stubborn strength would pull her back out. They were two halves of the same whole, and it was clear to anyone who watched them that they needed each other.

"They're lucky to have each other," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. "And if Ghost really does fly again..."

"Then they'll both be whole," Laena finished softly, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

I glanced down at her, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of my sleeve. I couldn't help but smile. The war might still be raging, and we might still have a long road ahead of us, but in this moment, in this garden, with the sun shining down on Lucerys and Aemond, things felt... right. Hopeful, even.

"Ghost will fly," Laena said confidently, her gaze still on my daughter. "And when he does, Lucerys will too."

I nodded, my heart swelling with pride and relief. My daughter was back, stronger than ever. And soon, her dragon would be too.

Qarl nudged me playfully, a grin tugging at his lips. "Well, looks like you won't have to worry about Aemond spiraling into some one-eyed rage after all. You've got Lucerys to thank for that."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Aye, she's got him wrapped around her finger."

And honestly, I couldn't be happier about it. Watching them now, as Lucerys laughed and Aemond—smiling despite his new pearl-adorned socket—leaned to whisper something in her ear, I could see it clearly. These two had something solid. Something real.

Laena squeezed my arm gently, and I glanced down at her, a smile tugging at my lips. Still, I wasn't here to marvel at their newfound peace. I had something else on my mind, something I needed to say to my daughter.

"Hold on," I muttered to Qarl and Laena, giving them a quick glance before heading toward Lucerys and Aemond. The two of them were lost in their little world, barely noticing my approach until I cleared my throat.

"Aemond," I said, offering a nod. He straightened, instinctively shifting into that stiff posture of his, though Lucerys remained casual, relaxed. "Mind if I steal my daughter for a bit?"

Aemond's good eye darted to Lucerys, who flashed him a playful smile before nodding at me. "Go on then, kepa. Steal me away."

I motioned for her to follow, and as we started walking toward the beach, I heard Laena and Qarl strike up a conversation with Aemond—probably distracting him with idle talk so he wouldn't overthink the fact that I'd pulled his betrothed away.

Lucerys fell into step beside me easily, her hair catching the morning sun, the same way it always had when she was a little girl running through Driftmark's halls. The smile that tugged at my lips felt strange, bittersweet. Here she was, my strong, fierce daughter, back to her old self—like a flower blooming again after a long, harsh winter. The darkness that had weighed her down these past months seemed to have lifted. The shell she'd retreated into had cracked, and Lucerys Velaryon was back.

As we reached the beach, the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore, the salt tang of the sea hanging in the air, I nudged her lightly with my shoulder. "So, how does it feel to be back to your annoying, stubborn self?" I teased, grinning at her.

Lucerys laughed, that clear, carefree sound I hadn't heard in far too long. "I'm surprised you didn't enjoy the peace and quiet while I was moping."

I shook my head, chuckling. "Don't be ridiculous. You, quiet? That's like Seasmoke deciding he's too good to fly."

She snorted at that, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement as she glanced out at the sea. I watched her for a moment, the wind tousling her hair, the lightness in her demeanor that hadn't been there in so long. My chest tightened with a mix of pride and relief.

"I'm proud of you, my sweet pearl," I said, more serious now, my voice soft. "You came back from something that could've broken anyone else."

Lucerys turned to me, her expression softening, her smile fading into something more sincere. "I'm sorry, kepa. For worrying you. For... everything. I wasn't myself. I didn't know how to deal with almost losing Ghost. I—"

"Stop," I cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to explain. I know what it's like, feeling like the world is slipping away from you, thinking you'll lose something so important you can't breathe. But you didn't lose him, and you didn't lose yourself, either. You're stronger than that."

My heart ached at the thought, the weight of it pressing deep into my chest. I had watched my daughter slip into that same cold, dark melancholy that had nearly consumed me when I lost Joffrey. The grief had been like a wave, crashing over me, threatening to drag me under until I couldn't breathe. Had it not been for Jacaerys, my sweet boy, I would've drowned in it. He had been my lifeline, pulling me from the abyss with his gentle hands and steadfast presence, reminding me that I still had something to hold on to. But even now, all these years later, that grief lingered like a shadow, always just behind me, waiting for a moment of weakness.

It terrified me, the thought that my daughter might face the same fate, that the weight of our bloodline, our cursed legacy, would crush her in the same way. There had always been that fear, lurking in the back of my mind. What if the grief that had so often been my companion was passed on to her? What if Lucerys, my fierce, bright girl, was bound by the same chains that had once held me?

I had watched her closely, searching for the signs, the subtle changes that I knew all too well. The way her shoulders drooped when she thought no one was looking, the faraway glint in her eyes when she was lost in thought. It was like looking into a mirror, seeing my own reflection staring back at me. My blood had cursed her, I had convinced myself. The weight of our family's tragedies, our losses, had become hers, passed down like a poisoned heirloom.

But Lucerys had proven herself stronger than I had ever been. She was not just my daughter—she was Rhaenyra's daughter, through and through. The fire of the Targaryens ran too hot in her veins to be extinguished by something as ordinary as grief. Where I had stumbled and faltered, drowning in sorrow, Lucerys had risen like a dragon from the ashes. She had faced her sadness, her loss, with a courage that I had never known in my youth. Her spirit burned too brightly, too fiercely, to be consumed by the darkness that had so often plagued me.

Lucerys nodded, biting her lip, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She didn't speak for a moment, but I knew what she was thinking. The pain she'd gone through wasn't something she could put into words easily. It had nearly consumed her. But here she was, standing on the other side of it, whole again.

"And you've got more to look forward to now, don't you?" I said, changing the subject as I nudged her lightly again. "Like meeting Jacaerys' twins. Aelora and Aelor. The future dragonriders of the realm."

At the mention of her niece and nephew, Lucerys' face lit up. "I can't wait to meet them," she said, grinning. "And their dragons too. I hear they've already bonded with their hatchlings."

"Aye," I replied, smiling. "Morghul and Shrykos, fierce little things. You'll have your hands full when you see them, I'm sure. And Joffrey's going to need them by his side soon enough."

"Joffrey," she said, her voice softening at the mention of her younger brother. "Is he well?"

"He's more than well," I assured her. "And we're going to make sure he has a strong future. That's why I need to tell you something."

Lucerys raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she turned to face me fully. "What is it?"

"We're flying to Tyrosh," I said, my voice firm. "For Joffrey. For the crown. It's time to break the Triarchy once and for all, and Rhaenyra has given us her blessing. Tyrosh will be ours, and Joffrey will have a future worthy of his name."

Lucerys' eyes widened for a moment, and then, slowly, a grin spread across her face. "Flying to Tyrosh, is it? Well, it's about time we took the fight to them."

I chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Aye. It's been long enough. And this time, we're not just flying for war, my pearl. We're flying for our family. For Joffrey. For everything we've built."

Lucerys nodded, her expression growing more determined, more focused. "For Joffrey. For the crown."

Before I could say anything more, a familiar shadow passed over us, followed by the sound of beating wings. I looked up, and there he was—Ghost. His snow-white scales gleamed in the sunlight, though patches of black still marked where Cannibal's fire had seared him. His blood-red eyes were locked on Lucerys, watching her intently as he landed gracefully on the beach, his wings outstretched as if testing the wind.

Lucerys' face lit up, her smile so wide I thought her face might crack. Without a word, she ran to Ghost, her hand reaching out to stroke his snout. Ghost lowered his head, nuzzling into her palm, his red eyes gleaming with something like recognition. Like he knew his rider was truly back.

"Go on, then," I called out to her, grinning. "You've been grounded long enough."

Lucerys didn't need any more encouragement. With a practiced ease, she swung herself onto Ghost's back, settling into the saddle with a look of pure joy on her face. She glanced back at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Come on, kepa!" she called, her voice filled with laughter. "Let's fly!"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, my heart swelling with pride. I called out to Seasmoke, my dragon's familiar call ringing through the air as he soared down to meet us. The moment his claws touched the ground, I was already climbing onto his back, the old thrill of flight bubbling up inside me.

Within moments, we were airborne, Lucerys and Ghost leading the way as Seasmoke and I followed. The wind whipped through my hair, the world falling away beneath us as we soared higher and higher, the sun warming our faces as we cut through the sky.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, we weren't flying for war, or duty, or anything beyond the sheer joy of it. We were flying because we could, because the sky was ours, and for once, the weight of the world didn't feel so heavy.

Lucerys' laughter echoed through the air as Ghost dipped and weaved, and I found myself laughing along with her, the sound swallowed by the wind. We spiraled and looped, side by side, our dragons moving in perfect harmony, as if they too were reveling in the freedom of the moment.

We flew not for war, but for joy.

Just as it should be.