Sacrifice | Daenerys Targaryen

-14-

Daenerys sits upon her throne, a formidable figure of power and authority, flanked by Lyla and Missandei. Her gaze is steely, her expression one of unwavering determination. Before her stand two visitors, Ser Jorah Mormont, and the enigmatic Tyrion Lannister.

The tension in the room is palpable. Lyla's heart feels like it's caught in a vise. She stares at Ser Jorah, a man she had grown to love like a father, a man who had betrayed them all by selling out their secrets to the usurpers. He had disclosed Aera's birth, forever painting a target on their backs. Her emotions swirl like a storm within her, torn between the desire to run into his embrace and the urge to exact vengeance on the man who had put a price on her daughter's head.

But Ser Jorah's voice slices through the air, slicing through the chaos of Lyla's thoughts.

"Your Grace, I want to say..."

"You will not speak," Daenerys's voice is resolute, her eyes never leaving Ser Jorah as she turns her attention to the newly arrived Tyrion Lannister.

"How do I know you are who you say you are?" Her tone is sharp, her eyes piercing as they scrutinize the dwarf before her.

"If only I were otherwise," Tyrion quips with a wry smile.

"If you are Tyrion Lannister, why shouldn't I kill you to pay your family back for what it did to mine?" Daenerys's words are laden with a weight of history and blood feuds.

" You want reνenge against the Lannisters? l killed my mother, Joanna  Lannister, on the day l was born. l killed my father, Tywin Lannister,  with a bolt to the heart. l am the greatest Lannister killer of our  time," Tyrion says.

" So l should welcome you into my service because you murdered members of your own family?"

Tyrion's response is measured and laced with a hint of irony, "Into your service? We have only just met. It's too soon to know if you deserve my service."

Daenerys, unyielding in her gaze, counters, "If you'd rather return to the fighting pits, just say the word."

The tension crackles in the air. Lyla watches the exchange, her heart pounding in her chest. Her thoughts drift to Ser Jorah, the man whose betrayal still feels like a fresh wound. The man who had loved Daenerys with a fervor that bordered on obsession, yet had not trusted her enough to reveal his darkest secret.

Tyrion, undeterred by Daenerys's threat, begins to speak, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue and a touch of admiration, "When I was young, I heard a story about a baby born during the worst storm in living memory. She had no wealth, no lands, no army, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of whom probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves. They kept her alive, moving her from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who'd been sent to kill her. She was eventually sold off to some warlord on the edge of the world, and that appeared to be that. Then, a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew told me that this girl without wealth, lands, or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons. He thought she was our best, last chance to build a better world. I thought you were worth meeting, at the very least."

Daenerys's steely exterior softens slightly as she listens to Tyrion's words. Lyla can see the gears turning in her mind, the flicker of curiosity that dances in her eyes.

"And why are you worth meeting?" Daenerys finally asks, her tone guarded.

"Because you cannot build a better world on your own. You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule, the strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you."