Lyonel POV
Lyonel hummed softly to himself, the same wandering tune circling again and again in his head. He did not know where he had first heard it—perhaps from a singer who came to Blackhaven, or from his mother long ago when the world had been simpler. The melody was thin and fragile, like glass that might shatter if he thought too hard about it. So he did not think. He hummed.
The chamber was quiet save for the faint crackle of a hearth and the distant murmur of voices somewhere beyond the stone walls. The smell of herbs lingered thick in the air, sharp and bitter. It clung to the bandages wrapped around the King's right thigh and mixed with the iron scent of dried blood. Lyonel kept his eyes on the floor, tracing the lines between the stones, trying to lose himself in their patterns.
A hand settled firmly on his shoulder.
Lyonel flinched and looked up. Maester Rudy stood over him, his chain glinting faintly in the firelight. The old man's face was lined with concern.
"Let us have a look at you, Lyonel," the maester said gently.
Before Lyonel could answer, the King's voice cut through the air.
"It is all right, Maester Rudy. Lyonel is fine."
King Jaehaerys sat upright in the bed despite the fresh bandages on his thigh. His pale hair fell loosely around his shoulders, and though his face was drawn with exhaustion, his violet eyes were sharp and alert.
"He rode a dragon for the first time," the King continued. "Many men grow ill after such a flight. It passes in a day or two. You may leave us."
Maester Rudy hesitated. His mouth opened as if to protest, but the King spoke again, and this time his tone left no room for argument.
"I thank you for tending my wound, Maester. Now I will have privacy."
The maester swallowed, dipped his head, and retreated from the chamber. The heavy door closed behind him with a dull thud. Silence followed, thick and heavy.
Only the King and Lyonel remained.
Lyonel shifted uncomfortably under Jaehaerys's gaze. The humming died in his throat. The King studied him for a long moment, as if weighing something unseen.
"Is what you said true?" Lyonel asked quietly. "About the sickness?"
Jaehaerys nodded. "It is. Your body will remember the ground soon enough. But that is not why I sent the maester away."
A knot tightened in Lyonel's stomach. He straightened slightly. "What is it, my king?"
The King exhaled slowly. "We must speak of the Vulture King."
The words sent a chill through Lyonel. The battle flashed in his mind—the chaos, the shouting, the blur of steel and fear. He forced himself to remain still.
"You did not kill him," Jaehaerys said plainly. "I did. That is what you will say when asked."
Lyonel blinked. For a heartbeat, he thought he had misheard. "My king…?"
"You will tell them that I faced him in single combat," Jaehaerys continued. "That I struck him down with Blackfyre and saved your life. That is the tale that will be told."
"Why?" The question slipped out before Lyonel could stop it.
The King's gaze hardened, though not with anger, but with purpose.
"For the good of the realm. A king must be more than a ruler seated on a throne. He must be a figure men believe in. If the kingdoms see that their king fights—on dragonback or on foot—they will follow him with greater loyalty. My grandfather understood that. My father…" Jaehaerys paused, and a shadow crossed his expression. "My father did not."
Lyonel felt the weight of the words settle over him. He thought of the way soldiers had looked to Jaehaerys during the battle, how their fear had shifted into fierce determination when the dragon's shadow fell across the field. A king who fought beside his men was a powerful symbol.
And then there was the truth of his own actions. He had not slain the Vulture King in glorious combat. The memory of it sat uneasily in his chest. It had been desperate, messy, born of fear as much as courage.
"I will obey your will, my king," Lyonel said at last.
Jaehaerys inclined his head. "You will not go unrewarded. When Lord Baratheon returns with his men, I will honour you before them all."
Lyonel frowned slightly. "Why not now?"
"Because I need rest," the King replied, a faint smile touching his lips. "And so do you. A proper reward deserves a proper audience."
Lyonel accepted that with a nod. As he shifted on the bed, a sudden realization struck him.
"Adder's Fang," he said. "I left it in the courtyard."
"It will be retrieved," Jaehaerys assured him. "I will see to it. Remember what we have spoken of."
"I will, my king."
"Good." The King swung his legs carefully over the side of the bed and stood. Though he moved with caution, there was a steadiness to him that spoke of his iron will. He walked toward Lyonel slowly, and he rested a hand briefly on Lyonel's shoulder. "You are a brave young warrior. In time, you will be known throughout the realm. Of that I am certain."
With that, Jaehaerys left the chamber.
The door closed, and Lyonel was alone once more.
He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. The room felt larger now, emptier. The fire crackled softly, casting shifting shadows across the walls. Lyonel leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.
You will be known throughout the realm.
The words echoed in his mind. Once, the thought would have filled him with pride. It was what he had dreamed of—glory, honour, a name that would be remembered. Yet all he felt now was a weary heaviness.
Emily's face rose unbidden in his thoughts. Her laughter, her kindness. Gone. The world had changed in the span of days, and he felt as though he were still struggling to find his footing in its aftermath.
He turned his head and looked toward the shuttered window. Somewhere beyond those walls lay the battlefield, the place where so many lives had ended. He wondered how many names would be forgotten, how many stories would vanish with the dead.
Only the Seven remembered them all.
Lyonel closed his eyes and let the hum return, soft and steady. It was a fragile shield against the storm of his thoughts, but it was enough. For now, it was enough.
As sleep slowly crept over him, one final idea lingered in his mind: the King's secret, and the path it set before him. He had tied his fate more tightly to Jaehaerys than ever before. Whatever came next—glory or ruin—he would walk that road in the shadow of a dragon.
And the Seven alone knew where it would lead.