Opening my eyes, I braced for the embrace of the afterlife, yet it never came. Instead, I found myself standing amid flames, unscathed, the inferno that should have claimed me licking harmlessly at my skin. A bewildered gasp escaped me as I stepped out of the fire, my gown miraculously intact, untouched by the flame's voracious appetite. The realization dawned upon me, staggering in its implications—I might be a true dragon, immune to fire's deadly kiss.

As I lifted my gaze to the night sky, Vhagar's silhouette cut a majestic path across the stars, her presence both awe-inspiring and foreboding. My heart, a tumult of emotions, was set aflame with a newfound resolve. Clutching my dagger, retrieved from the cool embrace of the sand, I turned back towards the castle, a single, dark purpose crystalizing in my mind: retribution.

The chaos unfolded before me, a violent dance of fury and desperation. Luke's voice, strained with effort, pierced the night, "My father's still alive," he cried, struggling against Aemond's iron grip.

"He doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond's taunt was a venomous sneer, his attention riveted on Jace, oblivious to the truth of his brother's knowledge.

The skirmish escalated in the blink of an eye—Jace's desperate ploy, a handful of sand flung into Aemond's eye, followed by Luke's swift retaliation, a blade slashing across the prince's face. A grim smile tugged at my lips, a silent approval of their courage, yet my heart yearned for more than just a scar as a token of his suffering.

Cloaked in shadows, I emerged, dagger poised for the kill, a lethal dance taught by Daemon himself. He had honed my skill, instilling in me the art of a swift, silent death, a secret pact sealed away from the eyes of family and kin.

My advance was swift, driven by a cold, unyielding intent. Yet, before I could deliver the fatal strike, a shout shattered the night. "Seize her!" Ser Harold's command rang out, a clarion call that halted my vengeance in its tracks.

Ser Criston Cole was upon me in an instant, his grasp iron-tight, wrenching the dagger from my hand. I struggled against his hold, desperation fueling my efforts as I sought to reach my nieces, to ensure their safety amidst the turmoil. But Ser Criston, unyielding, held me fast, a barrier between me and the justice I sought to dispense.

In that moment, trapped in his grasp, I realized the depth of the game we were all pawns within—a dance of dragons, where even the fiercest of flames could be smothered by the will of those who command power. Yet, within me, a fire raged on, undimmed and unyielding, a testament to the dragon's blood that coursed through my veins.

The tension in the air was palpable as the door swung open, revealing Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys descending the stairs, their expressions etched with concern and urgency. "What in the Seven Kingdoms has happened here?" Lord Corlys's voice boomed, his gaze sweeping over the gathered assembly in search of answers.

"Baela, Rhaena, Lyanna! Speak, children, what transpired?" Princess Rhaenys pleaded, her eyes darting anxiously among the faces of her family.

Wrenching myself free from Ser Criston Cole's grasp, I rushed to my father, seeking solace in his embrace. He enveloped me protectively, his eyes widening at the sight of the unmistakable burn marks adorning my gown—a silent testament to the night's harrowing events.

"Who is responsible for this?" Princess Rhaenys demanded, her voice a mixture of fury and fear, as she took in the chaotic scene before her.

Amidst the cacophony of accusations flying from one child to the next, the truth struggled to surface.

"They attacked me!"

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!" 

"He was gonna kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"He tried to kill me"

"Enough... It should be my son telling the tale!" Queen Alicent's voice thundered across the room, her words sharp as Valyrian steel, cutting through the chaotic murmur of the gathered crowd. Her eyes, ablaze with a mother's fury, bore into each person present, demanding silence and respect.

Corlys, with a demeanor as calm as the eye of a storm, turned towards me, his voice a gentle breeze amid the tempest. "Did he, Lyanna?" he inquired, his eyes searching mine for the truth. The gravity of his question weighed heavily upon me, and with a heavy heart, burdened with the night's terror, I could only nod in affirmation.

The king, a figure of authority now overshadowed by the gravity of the situation, approached his son with deliberate steps. "Aemond... I will have the truth of what happened. Now," he demanded, his voice firm yet tinged with an underlying plea for honesty.

Queen Alicent, undeterred, her voice rising like a tempest, countered, "What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Their children are responsible. They deserve to be punished," she declared, her pointed finger a symbol of her accusation, her protective maternal instinct morphing into a demand for justice.

"It was a regrettable accident," someone offered weakly, an attempt to quell the growing storm.

"Accident?" Queen Alicent's scorn was palpable, her disbelief manifesting in her tone. "Prince Lucerys and Lady Lyanna came armed, intent on violence. They sought to kill my son—my own flesh and blood. Do you honestly expect me to stand by idly after such an affront?"

In the midst of the escalating tension, my own voice, unfiltered and bold, cut through the discord. "You have two more sons," I remarked

From the warmth of the fireplace, a soft whisper barely cut through the tension-filled room. Helaena, almost inaudibly, said, "She has to pick a side of who she loved most, but only time will tell whom she chooses." Everyone else seemed too caught up in their own grievances to notice, but I did. I knew Helaena was a dragon dreamer, one gifted with prophetic visions that often bore ominous predictions. A dreamer's prophecy wasn't to be taken lightly; it was a harbinger of what was inevitably to come.

"My sons were the ones under attack, forced into a position where they had to defend themselves. They were subjected to vile, unwarranted insults," Aunt Rhaenyra's voice rose, filled with a mix of outrage and maternal protectiveness.

"And what insults were these?" Father asked, his voice cutting through the thick atmosphere, seeking clarity.

"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was loudly, publicly questioned," Rhaenyra replied, her voice quivering with anger, barely containing her emotions.

Mother was next to speak, her voice carrying a cold fury. "He caused harm to my daughter," she stated, succinctly summing up the indignity and injury inflicted upon me.

"He called us bastards," Jace chimed in, his voice 

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders." The Princess asserted with a steel edge to her voice, though it seemed she already had suspicions about the source of the rumors

"Over an insult? My son has been maimed, lost an eye, something he cannot simply recover from."

"Perhaps a jewel could replace it, Your Grace," I blurted out, once again speaking before thinking. The room's tension briefly shifted to me, and I could feel the Queen's icy glare. I had never mastered the art of holding my tongue, much to her displeasure.

Aemond, who had been silently observing from his seat, appeared to ponder my remark for a moment.

"You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster.  The lot of boys. It was nothing."  The queen insisted even though she knew he heard it from her.

The king has had enough with the stalling wanted the answer so he can go to bed. "Aemond... I asked you a question"

"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter." 

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?"

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk."

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture." Ser Cole interjected with a smirk, earning a glare from me. The urge to wipe that smug look off his face was overwhelming.

"Aemond... look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

"It was Aegon." Aemond finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

" Me?" Aegon responded, genuinely bewildered by the accusation."And you, Aegon, where did you hear such falsehoods? Speak the truth to me now!" The King  demanded, his frustration boiling over into a shout.

"We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them." Aegon finally said, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on me. "Except for Lyanna," he added, and I couldn't help but offer him a small, grateful smile amidst the chaos.

"This ceaseless bickering must end, all of you! We are a family. I expect apologies and gestures of goodwill forthwith. As your father, your grandsire, and your king, I command it!" King Viserys roared, his voice echoing through the tension-laden chamber, seeking to quell the rising storm with his royal decree.

Yet, Queen Alicent, unswayed by the plea for unity, pressed on with a desperation laced with vindication. "That's hardly enough. Aemond has been irreparably harmed, my king," she implored, seeking a justice that matched the scale of the injury inflicted upon her son.

Before I could let slip a sharp retort, my mother swiftly placed her hand over my mouth, a silent command for restraint. I rolled my eyes in frustration and shrugged her hand away, unwilling to be silenced even by familial bonds.

"Goodwill cannot undo what has been done, Alicent. I understand your grief, but I cannot replace his eye," The king responded, his voice a mix of weariness and reason.

"No, because it has been taken from him. By one of them," she countered, her voice cold, her accusation pointing like a dagger towards us.

"And what would you have me do?" the king questioned, his patience thinning.

"There is a debt. An eye for an eye. I demand reparation— one of their eyes in exchange," she declared, her voice chilling the room. At her words, a protective silence fell, as parents instinctively moved to shield their children from the gravity of her demand.

"My dear wife, please—" King Viserys began, attempting to find a middle ground in the escalating conflict.

"He is your son too, Viserys. Your own blood. Please, my king, heed my plea," Alicent persisted, her plea for retribution cutting through the tense air.

"Do not let anger cloud your judgment," the king countered, his voice a beacon of reason in the turmoil.

"If the king will not deliver justice, then the queen shall," Alicent declared, her resolve hardening.

Turning to her loyal knight, she issued a chilling command, "Ser Criston... I require the eye of Lucerys Velaryon or Lyanna Velaryon. Whose it is matters not to me."

The words of the Queen hung in the air like a curse, so venomous and unimaginable that I struggled to believe they were real. My heart hammered in my chest, a wild thing trying to escape the cage of my ribs. I wanted to laugh, to dismiss it as a cruel joke, but the stony determination in Queen Alicent's eyes told a different story. She was not jesting; she was a mother lioness avenging her cub, and in that moment, I understood that she would go to any lengths for vengeance. It was a resolve I recognized, a fierce protectiveness I knew I shared, though for different causes.

"You will do no such thing," the King declared, his voice echoing with authority, a stark contrast to the chilling proposal. It was a command, not a request, his kingly aura attempting to quell the storm his wife had conjured.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Queen Alicent's voice cracked like a whip, her command to Ser Criston Cole a desperate plea wrapped in royal command. The tension between duty and morality was palpable, a dance of loyalty and horror playing out before us all.

"As your protector, my Queen," Ser Criston's response was measured, the weight of his oath hanging heavy between them.

"Alicent, this matter... is finished. Do you understand?" The King's voice softened, a plea to reason, to family, to end this madness that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of our world.

The room held its breath as the King approached the Driftmark throne, the air thick with unsaid fears and whispered prayers. He turned, his gaze sweeping over us, a silent gathering of souls bound by blood and duty, and made his proclamation, his voice a bastion against the darkness his wife sought to unleash.

"And let it be known: should anyone 'man or woman, noble or common' whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed."

Relief washed over me in an almost physical wave, a reprieve from the nightmare we had been dragged into. The King's words were a shield, a declaration of protection for my cousins that extended, in a way, to all of us.

"Thank you, Father," Princess Rhaenyra's gratitude was palpable, her voice a mixture of relief and lingering sorrow. She turned then, her maternal instinct to gather her sons close, a silent vow of protection against a world that had shown its cruel fangs.

Walking away from the tense atmosphere that still clung to the air like the remnants of a storm, I felt my mother's lips press a gentle kiss atop my head. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt like a shield against the world's madness. The chaos of the evening seemed to quiet just a bit, a brief respite from the storm that had just passed over us.

Driven by a mixture of concern and curiosity, I decided to seek out Prince Aegon. The confrontation, his mother's venomous words, they had to weigh heavily on him, as they did on all of us. Yet, before I could take more than a few steps toward him, a gentle tug on my hand stopped me in my tracks.

It was Helaena, her grasp light but insistent. There's always been an unspoken bond between us, not merely of friendship but of a deep, familial connection. I've always seen it as my duty to shield her from the cruelties of our world, and she, in her own way, has always offered me a glimpse into the mysteries that dance at the edge of our reality.

"The lady in red shall appear in your time of need," she whispered, her voice a soft murmur that seemed to drift from another world. The words sent a shiver down my spine, not out of fear, but from the sheer intensity of belief I had in Helaena's prophecies. Her eyes, wide and earnest, sought mine, as if willing me to understand the depth of her vision. "Red lady," she repeated, a mantra that held more questions than answers.

With a reassuring squeeze of her hand, I promised her silently that I would heed her words, even if I did not fully understand them. Then, letting her hand slip from mine, I continued on my path to Aegon.

Finding him by the fireplace, lost in thought, I couldn't help but wonder what turmoil churned beneath his stoic exterior. "How's your face, my prince?" I inquired, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the heavy air between us.

He glanced up, a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. "It's alright. Nothing a bit of wine wouldn't help with," he replied, his attempt at humor not quite masking the underlying tension.

I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood despite everything. It was a reminder of the resilience that lay within us all, the ability to find moments of levity even in the darkest of times.

Yet, as we shared that brief moment of camaraderie, Helaena's words echoed in my mind, a riddle yet to be solved. "The lady in red," I mused silently, a puzzle piece in the vast, intricate game that was our lives.

The air felt charged, heavy with the weight of impending doom as Queen Alicent's gaze shifted between Lucerys and me. The tension was a living entity, wrapping its cold fingers around my heart. I could see the gears turning in her head, calculating, deciding whose life to mar forever. Her eyes lingered on me, and for a fleeting second, I saw the internal battle waging within her. Despite the animosity that brewed like a storm between our houses, I knew taking my eye would fracture something far deeper than mere familial bonds. It was a line even she hesitated to cross.

Thus, her decision fell on Lucerys, a choice that would stain the annals of our history with sorrow. With a decisiveness that belied the turmoil underneath, she snatched the dagger from King Viserys, her husband, her steps toward Lucerys as final as the setting sun. My heart raced, fear and anger boiling in my veins.

Before she could reach him, Princess Rhaenyra, embodying the fury and protectiveness of a mother dragon, stood in her path. "You've gone too far," she declared, her voice a tempest of righteousness and defiance.

In an instant, Aegon and Helaena placed themselves before me, shields against the madness that sought to engulf us all. Their presence was a balm to my fraying nerves, a silent vow of protection and unity.

"I? What have I done but what was expected of me?" Alicent retorted, her voice laced with the bitterness of years spent in silent sacrifice. "Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please."

Her father, Otto, intervened with a plea that felt too late, "Alicent, let her go!"

The Queen's lament was a mirror to the fractures within our realm, "Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again. And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled."

Rhaenyra's response cut deeper than any blade, "Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

Amidst the turmoil, Prince Aemond rose, his voice steady yet filled with an eerie calm, "Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... but I gained a dragon."

With those words, the king declared the proceedings over, leaving the throne room in a heavy silence that spoke volumes of the battles to come.

The court divided, black on one side, green on the other, and there I stood, in the middle, not moving toward either. In that moment, my heart may have leaned toward the black, swayed by the bonds of kinship and love, but I knew deep down, such allegiance was as fleeting as the wind. The world we knew was changing, and I, Lyanna, would find my own path through the tempest that awaited us.

AN:

I added more to this chapter so the next chapter wouldn't be as long