Book 3: Dragonfire

Chapter 1 - The Narrow Sea

Flames closed in from every side. The body of Alora Pyre lay broken and bloodied along the blood soaked floor. Murdered. Her only daughter clutched her mother to her body, begging any God she could name. 

Too far. Joffrey had gone too far. Catelyn and Robb had been murdered by Walder Frey but this had been a direct affront to her. She'd kill him for this.

It was a grief like no other, a grief that kept Lyon rocking her mother's corpse to and fro while the flames closed in. First the flames devoured their clothes, then the flesh upon Alora's skin bubbled and melted, hissed and sizzled as she melted away in Lyon's arms. 

Untouched by the flames, Lyon screamed into the inferno. 

Not even the flames could purify her and send her back to the Gods.

Lyon woke with a start. Her hands fisted the sheets until her knuckles were bone white. Her bed was drenched from sweat- she had dreamt it again. Her hand went to her forehead and Lyon breathed a deep sigh, letting the sound of the waves beating against the ship's hull calm her frantic heart.

"You're fine... you're just fine." She assured herself, and a dog's whine sounded from beside her. Winter was there, curled up, beautiful fur glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the porthole. The dire wolf lifted its massive head and set it on Lyon's shoulder. I'm here, you're safe, those big opalscent eyes said.

The small fleet had been on the sea for weeks now and Lyon would have gone mad if it weren't for the loyal direwolf. Winter had found her way back to Lyon. One of the men had recognized the wolf, somehow, and had made sure the beast had found its way on Lyon's ship out of Kings Landing. For that, she would be forever grateful. It would seem that she had many things to be grateful for.

Joffrey's death had happened at a most opportune time and she wouldn't regret what she had done to him for a moment. It was the flint to her steel in creating unrest. It was a message. King Robb's rebellion wasn't over. She had members of many powerful holds, however she had also lost many. Houses directly affiliated with Robb's side in the war had pulled support from a leaderless fight.

If only they knew it wasn't over. Houses Umber, Karstark, and Mormont, to name a few. In truth, her "army" was nothing but untrained foot soldiers who had nothing to return to. That didn't stop Lyom from bombarding them with training. All men were told to practice their sparring, as well as earn their keep aboard the vessels. Hundreds of those men were learning how to sail for the first time. They were exhausting themselves and their food stores showed that. They'd have to pray for swift winds to get to Pentos fast enough.

Pentos was where they would resupply her men. Despite quickly losing their investors after Robb's death, Lyon retained funds enough to get her people to Daenerys in Meereen. There they would lend any aid they could, and Lyon could lay her eyes on one of her last living blood relatives.

Alora Pyre had been one of Aerys Targaryen's favorite whores. It was the eyes, Alora had once told her. He had loved those sea green eyes of hers. Those same eyes had been passed on to Lyon. The only thing she inherited from Aerys had been the trade marked Targaryen silver hair.  She wondered of her half-sister - if Daenerys - held any family resemblance to her. She had never seen a Targaryen before - had only read of their physical traits.

In many small council meetings Lyon had eavesdropped on the whereabouts and musings about her sister. She was a vision according to all who saw her- a powerful queen who had acquired a Kalazhar of Dothraki riders, and an army of Unsullied soldiers.

Yes, her sister was a powerful woman indeed. Which was why she had to tread lightly concerning how she would confront the Targaryen. One order and Lyon would be dragon lunch.