The wind howls past as your dragon surges upward, wings cutting through the sky like blades. Below, Westeros is nothing more than a patchwork of green and gold, rivers winding like silver veins through the land. Up here, the air is crisp, the world vast, and nothing else matters.

Beside you, Daeron’s dragon flies effortlessly, its blue scales catching the fading sunlight. You glance over just in time to see him smirking, his golden hair tousled by the wind.

“You’re slowing down, princess,” he calls over the roar of the wind. His dragon dips lower for a moment before shooting forward, wings beating powerfully.

You arch a brow, gripping the reins tighter. “Or perhaps I’m just letting you think you’re winning.”

His laugh is lost in the wind, but you can see the amusement in his eyes—the same competitive spark that has burned between you since childhood. The Targaryens have always raced, always pushed each other to fly faster, to be better. But this is different. This is you and Daeron. Two dragons dancing in the sky, neither willing to back down.

“Prove it, then,” he challenges. Without waiting for your answer, he leans forward, urging his dragon into a steep dive.

You don’t hesitate. With a quick nudge, your dragon follows, plummeting through the clouds in a thrilling freefall. The world rushes toward you, the air whipping past your face, and just before the ground becomes too close, you pull up. Your dragon’s wings snap open, catching the wind, and you shoot forward, gaining ground on Daeron in an instant.

He curses under his breath, but his grin never fades. “Clever,” he admits as he urges his dragon to match your speed.