LYRA felt a sense of familiarity as she took Aerion in her arms. There was a dread in her belly from the thought that she might never be able to hold him again. She stroked her son's rounded cheeks, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips as she gazed into his violet-green eyes. Aemma used to laugh about how he could not decide whether he wanted to be a Targaryen or a Stark. Even his dark strawberry-blonde hair was reminiscent of neither hallmark of his parents' lineage.

There was Glover in him and Lyra had never felt so homesick as she did at that moment. She missed the sight of the ice-tipped pines stretching out at far as the eye can see, the frosty winds that kissed her face upon the ramparts and the flurrying snowflakes that would crown her sable hair. She yearned for the embrace of the hot springs in Winterfell that they would say was warmed by a dragon beneath the castle grounds and the raucous songs on the muddy streets of winter town when the Northmen gathered during the colder moons.

The door to the nursery opened and Daemon walked in with soft footfalls against the Myrish carpet. He closed the gap between them and his arms wrapped around her waist as his head rested against hers.

"Kepa!" called Aerion with a babbly voice.

Lyra chuckled, turning her face slightly to her husband. "He calls for you."

The edges of Daemon's lips curved slowly as he gently plucked the babe from her arms. In a few more moons, Aerion would turn three and Lyra wondered how time could pass by so quickly. She watched as Daemon coddled his son and a nostalgic ache bloomed within her chest. He was so good with the children. So kind and affectionate and heartfelt.

"Baelor used to cry every night," he murmured, "he was always afraid of the dark and could never sleep by himself."

The throb in her heart grew and rose upwards to the back of her eyes and Lyra had to blink the tears that threatened to spill across her cheeks. She forced a smile instead, capturing the image of him and their children onto the canvas of her mind so that she could immortalise it. Daemon placed Aerion back in his crib with a peck on the top of his head.

"Sagon iā sȳz valītsos ēva iksi arlī," he whispered. His violet eyes misted ever so slightly with near-distant memories. Lyra slipped her hand in his and they started towards the door. "Wait," Daemon called hoarsely, pulling her back by the arm.

Lyra turned to him with raised brows before feeling his soft lips crashed against hers. She almost teetered backwards, hands reaching for the nape of his neck and feeling strands of silver hair weaved between each fingertip. Her breath caught in her throat but she returned the kiss with equal ardour. Daemon held her close to his chest and she remembered the day she looked at him under the gloaming eventide, amethyst meeting jade. How her soul burned with dragonfire and the most bittersweet of songs spilt forth from her heart. Nothing could ever change the way she felt for him, and he for her.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon," he whispered and she smiled with incandescent bliss.

"Ōños hen ñuha ābrar," she breathed back.

He kissed her one more time, as soft as falling snow upon her cheeks, as beautiful as the winter roses in the gardens of Winterfell. She loved him with every inch of her being, like the stars that twinkled for the moon and the lark that heralded the morn; he tasted of summer storms that set her veins on fire. And she never wanted to let him go.

But she had to.

They made their way towards the entrance of the castle hand in hand, their boots striding across the black stone floor. Alyse and Vaegon were waiting for them on the dark shores with Caraxes. The castellan, master-of-arms and elder dragonkeeper stood to the side of the statues that guarded the bridge.

"Safe travels, my prince and princess," Ser Robert bade them. "Good fortunes on your endeavours."

"Thank you, Ser," Daemon replied. "Make sure the children do not get up to too much trouble."

"We'll try our best," Ser Edgar quipped. As their master-of-arms, he would know all about the twins' mischief-making during their training sessions.

They walked over to Vaegon and Alyse who greeted them excitedly, the prospect of war not fazing them in the slightest. "Will you feed the Crabman to Caraxes?" asked Vaegon.

Daemon laughed. "I think Caraxes has better taste than that sea filth."

Alyse stuck out her tongue with a disgusted sound. "Then he shall be burnt to a crisp."

"What will you do, muña?" Vaegon turned to Lyra curiously.

She smiled faintly. "What I always do best, sweetling. Remember...information is power. It could sway even the mightiest of warriors and stay the sharpest of swords."

"Teach me, muña!" Alyse cried, grabbing hold of her mother's riding skirt. "I want to be powerful like you and as feared as kepa!"

Daemon stroked her hair fondly. "You will learn in due time, little one. For now, focus on your studies and training. When we return, I expect the both of you will be able to take me on in single combat while reciting the entire history of Old Valyria."

"I will be the best swordsman in all of Westeros and Essos," vowed Vaegon.

"No, I will be the best swordswoman!" countered Alyse.

Lyra took them both in a tight hug. "You are our children and are destined for greatness. Do not forget that." She gave them both a peck on the head before standing.

They bade each other a final farewell before Daemon and Lyra mounted Caraxes. The dragon took flight from the black sands of Dragonstone, ascending to the grey billowing clouds above. A drizzle dappled their faces as they flew westward first to the neighbouring isle of Driftmark. From above, they could see the fleet of Velaryon ships docked around the bay with tall masts set with great sails furled from the wind.

Caraxes descended towards the docks where they could see a congregation of sailors awaiting their arrival. A silvery misted dragon was also coiled nearby and it shrieked loudly upon catching sight of the Blood Wyrm. Corlys came to greet them as they landed on the sandy shoreline filled with driftwood from the high tides.

"Welcome, friends!" called the lord. "We have everything arranged to set sail."

Daemon nodded in greeting. "Corlys. I see somebody is eager to throw themselves into battle."

"One that has been long overdue," Corlys responded before greeting Lyra. "Your ship, milady, awaits you there. The Queen's Revenge. The fastest ship in all of Westeros and capable of outrunning any old pirate ship."

"The Queen's Revenge?" questioned Lyra with a bemused smirk. "You're quite the jester, aren't you, Corlys?"

"I thought you would like it," the old sea dog replied with a grin. "The Crabfeeder has taken control of the islands between the Broken Arm and the Disputed Lands, and at least two dozen galleys are patrolling those borders."

They walked towards the group of men on the docks, surrounding a crate with a large map laid upon its top. Corlys introduced them briefly to his brother, Vaemond, and his son, Laenor.

"Now our priority is to escort Lyra safely across the Stepstones to Lys," Corlys continued with his briefing. "Daemon and Laenor will go on dragonback and my men will take care of any stragglers that manage to slip past the dragonfire."

"Why not just fly to Lys?" questioned Vaemond with a frown.

"A dragon landing on Lys will attract too much attention," Lyra told him, "and that is exactly what we do not want if we are to root out the Lysene supporters of the Triarchy. Once that is done, I will sail to Volantis and amass a fleet to blockade the Grey Gallows."

Vaemond raised a brow. "How is one woman going to achieve that?"

"Valar Morghulis, my lord," she said with a cruel smile in his direction. "The same way that one man can wear many faces." The crease between his brows deepened and she had not expected him to understand.

"You can leave that to my wife," Daemon said lowly. "Without those Lysene reinforcements, the Myrmen and Tyroshi will be at a disadvantage. Then it will be a matter of time before their naval defences are crippled and the Crabfeeder will have nowhere to run."

"You have what I requested, Corlys?" asked Lyra.

"Of course." He nodded. "Everything is aboard the ship."

"Thank you," she acknowledged. They proceeded to go their separate ways; Daemon and Laenor mounting their dragons while Corlys and Vaemond made their final preparations for the Sea Snake and their fleet. Lyra made her way towards The Queen's Revenge, boarding the large ship armed with half a dozen canons on each side and swarming with oarsmen that were readying to set sail at a moment's notice.

Only one other woman stood at the prow, garbed in rich white silks and her long dark hair caught in the sea breeze. She turned around at Lyra's approach, familiar brown eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Mysaria darted forwards and they clasped hands with delighted smiles.

"It is good to see you again, Lyra," Mysaria enthused. "You have not changed in the least."

"Neither have you," Lyra replied. "I am so glad to have you with me."

"There is another that begged to come along," Mysaria told her, then nodded her head over Lyra's shoulder.

She turned around and to her surprise, she saw Ser Elwyn standing by the opening to the captain's quarters in his polished armour. His flaxen hair was shorter but his blue eyes shone brightly all the same.

"My lady," he greeted, standing tall amidst the chaotic bustle of the ship. "It is my honour and sworn duty to protect you wherever you may go."

"Ser Elwyn..." Lyra started with a breath of gratitude. "The honour is mine, ser, to have such a noble knight at my side."

"You humble me, my lady," he responded with a bow of his head.

She smiled, then turned towards the bulwarks to look out at the bay and the swirling dark waters. High above, Caraxes cried out in his high-pitched roar as Daemon circled the isle alongside Laenor and his dragon. Once Corlys and Vaemond had boarded their ship, the entire fleet began to depart from the shores of Driftmark.

It took two weeks to sail down the Narrow Sea that separated Westeros from the port city of Pentos, past The Fingers and the Bay of Crabs towards Tarth. The seas were rough and the skies were often grey with a brewing storm on the far horizon. Lyra would find the sailors praying to The Smith for favourable weather past Shipbreaker's Bay. She would sometimes catch sight of Caraxes soaring back and forth, flying along the cliffs to rest or steal sheep from the nearby plains.

The stormlands were not kind to them and the sea started to swell, raging waves breaking against the ship's hull with tempestuous fury, turbulent and unforgiving. The ship heaved and tossed upon the tides. Lyra and Mysaria held each other's hands, nestled in a corner of the cabin underneath swathes of blankets to ward off the chill from the battering rain. The wooden planks creaked and groaned, heavy boots pounding in every direction around them.

A sliver of light cracked through the thunderheads with the roar of a ravenous beast, illuminating the cabin with ghostly pale light before diminishing to murky shadows. The seas continued to roil throughout the Sea of Dorne. Mysaria prayed to the Moon-pale Maiden, the lyrical notes of her native dialect sounding soothing to Lyra's ears. As if she was singing to calm the thrashing leviathan beneath them.

A shout tore through the hiss of brine, "Pirates!"

Mysaria gripped her arm tightly and the door of the cabin opened to capricious winds that billowed about the room, sending loose parchments flying around them. Ser Elwyn entered quickly and closed the door behind him, his hair plastered to his skin and clothes drenched to the bone. He had taken off his armour to help the deckhands with the ropes. Dark droplets of water stained the wooden planks beneath him as he stared out the windows with a wild look in his pale blue eyes.

"Do not leave the cabin, my ladies," he told them. "We are crossing the Stepstones and the Myrmen have spotted us."

Lyra felt her pulse quicken and her breaths grew unsteady. Beneath the blankets, she gripped the hilt of her silver dagger until her knuckles turned white. Ser Elwyn then left them into the rippling squall.

"Where is Daemon?" whispered Mysaria as her eyes darted between the frosted windows.

The clamour outside grew in intensity, the winds continued to howl in their ears. Then amidst the bedlam and upheaval, Lyra could hear it. The wailing, high-pitched roar of the Blood Wyrm as the crimson dragon soared above the ship, the heavy beating of his wings sending the ship rocking from side to side. The small table within the cabin rattled and bottles rolled from wall to wall.

Through the clouded glass, Lyra saw the sea light up and orange flames danced high in the storm, spreading through the line of pirate ships that attempted to blockade them. The seafarers cheered outside as the dragons rained down hellfire on their assailants. A breath of relief escaped Lyra's lips and she stood up from the corner, darting forwards to get a better glimpse of her husband through the beating rain. An arc of lightning illuminated the seas and she found the glimmer of crimson scales and sure enough, silver hair whipping in the blustering gale.

Then a loud crash like the crack of a whip resounded through the air and Lyra was thrown against the wall as the ship rocked heavily from the starboard side. The opposite direction of the main arm of the pirate fleet. Mysaria called out to her with concern and was at her side in a heartbeat. The trample of boots shook the deck once more as voices rang shrilly in the belligerent night. The two women looked at each other with grim realisation as the clash of swords echoed throughout the ship. They were being boarded.

"Fuck," Lyra breathed out as she reached for her fallen dagger. The cabin door burst open with the roar of battle and biting cold winds. One of the Velaryon sailors fell backwards at the threshold, grunting out in pain as a sword pierced his chest. Lyra looked up into the eyes of the Myrman above her as if staring into the eyes of death itself. Sharp and ruthless as steel.

He called something out in Myrish and took a step forwards, before halting as the tip of a sword perforated his thin tunic. He slid to the deck atop the man he had just slained and Ser Elwyn stood behind with blood now splattered across his face and clothes.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he yelled amidst the din and she gave a curt nod.

The knight turned back around and resumed slashing at the oncoming pirates. The storm raged on and Mysaria pulled Lyra back to the corner of the room. She had her own dagger out, wielding it in a hand as she watched the door vigilantly. Just outside the cabin, Ser Elwyn cut down any Myrmen that came close to their vicinity. Lyra could taste the salt and iron on her tongue.

Caraxes' shriek tore across the mayhem and the pirate ship beside them was drowned with dragonfire. Screams pierced the air and a burning man ran into Ser Elwyn, knocking him down to the deck. Myrmen streamed past him, entering the cabin with swords drawn and coated in fresh rivulets of blood. Mysaria surged forwards, plunging her dagger into the first man's chest and pushing him back through the doorway.

Lyra squinted against the ferocious winds and pulled her away in time as another pirate swung his sword in her direction. He dashed into the cabin and Mysaria threw herself at him, sending them hurtling to the floor and she brought her dagger down into his torso repeatedly. Another Myrman came up behind her and Lyra quickly plunged her dagger into the man's neck. She watched him drop to the planks with blood gurgling forth from his mouth as his hands clawed desperately to staunch the wound.

Mysaria grabbed her hand to lead them out of the cabin and the freezing rain lashed against their skin like shards of ice. Caraxes shrieked overhead, claws grabbing hold of pirates and flinging them into the swirling dark waters. Mysaria screamed beside her as another pirate barrelled towards them with his sword drawn. Lyra pushed her away and held up her dagger. She cried out as she felt the brunt of the man's force against her wrist and her knees almost buckled under the weight of his attack. Steel and thunder clashed in her ears, then the man slumped to her feet with his head rolling away from his severed neck.

It had happened so quickly that she could only bring her narrowed eyes upwards. Violet and silver flashed in front of her, and Valyrian steel glistened as Daemon cut down another pirate with a swing of Dark Sister. He grasped her by the shoulder quickly, bringing her away from the chaotic frenzy surrounding them.

"Are you hurt?" he shouted.

"No!" she yelled back. "Where is Mysaria?!"

He looked around, leaving her side briefly and pulling the Lysene woman along with him. "Stay close to me!" he told them as he pushed them up the stairs leading to the stern of the ship.

Caraxes shrieked angrily, his beating wings felt like a hurricane as he fended off more pirates from the sky. The main sail flapped dangerously in the wind, a few of its ropes having broken loose from the mast. Lyra could see Ser Elwyn slewing pirates at the bow of the ship and Myrmen were starting to jump from the bulwarks, taking their chances with the sea instead. Caraxes flew by and breathed flames upon them, melting their skin to the bone before they could even sink beneath the waves. She could feel the scorching and blistering heat from the helm.

Daemon pushed them further to the back of the ship and Lyra felt her back press against the bulwark. Her body shivered and her teeth chattered as the deluge continued to pelt them relentlessly and her eyes stung from the salted winds. Daemon cut down a few more Myrmen before pausing to look around. His muscles finally relaxed and the cacophony stilled all at once.

"Is that the last of them?" asked Mysaria with her eyes darting back and forth.

"It seems like it," Daemon replied tentatively. "Ser Elwyn! Could you kindly check the galley please?"

The knight nodded in his direction. "Of course, my prince!" he called before hastily making his way below deck. Daemon sheathed Dark Sister at his hip and reached for Lyra's arm, gently guiding her back down to the deck. Mysaria trailed after them warily.

The first tendrils of dawn stretched out from the misty horizon, the sun unfurling like a crimson-stained bloom. The sky chorused and the voices of the seafarers joined the song with victory cheers. Daemon glowed under the gentle aurora, a stoic pinnacle of Targaryen heraldry and might. He stood tall and proud, with ash and gore staining his pale skin.

"We have the day but not for long," he said but more to himself than anyone else. "The seas are calming and more will come."

Lyra looked out at the sea, green eyes sweeping over the nearby barren isles and the dark pinpricks in the distance. "We're almost past the Gallows," she noted.

Daemon placed a hand on her damp cheek and leaned his head against hers. "Luckily the ship wasn't dismasted, you need to sail as fast as you can to Lys. Corlys and I will distract them."

She nodded urgently, fingers grasping his. "Stay safe," she whispered.

He smiled gently. "Come back to me." His lips grazed her forehead with a soft kiss and she felt his warm breath on her skin, his body close to hers. Then he pulled away and climbed onto the bulwark, whistling sharply into the breeze to summon Caraxes. The Blood Wyrm soared low beside the ship and Daemon jumped onto his back, disappearing towards the clouds.

Lyra trembled from the cold, puffs of breath curling into the frigid air as she looked southward. The war had only just begun and she already wanted it to end.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
heck yeah my boi caraxes getting some action in this chapter. i honestly didn't expect this chapter to be so long. this is the start of the stepstones war and it'll span around 3-4 chapters focusing on lyra's efforts in essos cause i freaking love essos and johanna and saera. always love to hear your thoughts and let me know what you'd like to see! xx

Sagon iā sȳz valītsos ēva iksi arlī — Be a good boy until we're back.
Ñuha jorrāelagon — My love.
Ōños hen ñuha ābrar — Light of my life.