It had been a tense morning for Queen Regent Sharra Arryn. The news from Gulltown was troubling, and the forces of the Vale stood ready at the Bloody Gate. Sharra paced the council chamber, her silk gown whispering against the stone floor, as she listened to the latest reports.

"The Conqueror's forces will not be far behind," said Ser Harrold of the Eyrie.

Sharra nodded sharply, her mind already calculating the next move. But before she could speak, a breathless servant burst into the chamber.

"Your Grace," he stammered. "A dragon... it flew over the Eyrie. It's landed... in the courtyard."

Her heart clenched. "The courtyard?" she repeated, her voice low but commanding. The servant nodded, pale with fear.

Without a word, Sharra swept from the room, her guards falling into step behind her. She ascended the winding stairs to the Eyrie’s heart, her footsteps echoing in the cold halls. As she entered the grand courtyard, she froze.

There it was. Vhagar, a beast of impossible size, lay sprawled like a living mountain of scales and fire. The dragon only stared back at her with a subtle threat. She went past it to the throne room where the conqueror's sibling sat on the throne, with Ronnel.

In their lap, laughing as if there wasn’t a dragon in the world, was Ronnel, her son.

"Mother!" he cried, waving cheerfully. "They said if im a good boy I might ride the dragon!"

Sharra's breath caught, her mind racing. The child was oblivious, but she could not afford to be. With every ounce of her composure, she stepped forward, inclining her head toward the dragonrider.