Prince Baelor watched as you snuck into the keep through the gardens, still clad in your riding leathers. You had not noticed him yet, it seemed. He stood with arms crossed beside a pillar you would have to pass to enter Maegor’s Holdfast, where your chambers lay. Your attention was cast downwards as you struggled in removing your riding coat; specially crafted from whale skin, lined thickly with shadowcat fur, and buckled with bovine bone - it was a heavy garment, likely even capable of withstanding the cold beyond the Wall. Your father, Maekar, had commissioned it after the incident - specialised riding gear for Vesperion’s rider.

Though, it wasn’t just the coat, but your gloves, boots, hood, harness, and even an alchemical breather, courtesy of the citadel. Vesperion was not a dragon easily ridden or controlled. One could recall how distraught Maekar had been; Baelor remembered it - how his brother had endured many a sleepless night over it. After all, Vesperion was as close to wild as a dragon could get without being completely untamed; he had known no riders before you.

His brother’s worries hadn’t been unfounded. A year after you had claimed Vesperion, the dragon took to the extreme altitudes it was so used to. By the time rider and beast returned, you were damn near frozen, held on only by a chain on your harness attached to the saddle. Vesperion was a young dragon, inexperienced with riders; for all his love for you, it seemed that the dragon simply didn’t realise its rider’s body was not made to naturally withstand such altitudes. It had taken the Maesters a moon’s turn to nurse you back to health, and after that, Maekar had tried to forbid you from flying altogether. It had been a foolish command born of a father’s love and concern for his daughter - the world knew no dragon rider would be kept to the ground for long, certainly not the rider of the ‘Star-farer’. Baelor had been the one to push for custom leathers knowing it would be futile to try and keep you from the sky.

Protective as he was, it had been no easy feat for him to convince Maekar to send you from Summerhall to ward and King's Landing. Baelor had insisted that you 'learned the courtly ways'.

“Do you ride at night to avoid my reprimands, or does Vesperion merely prefer the stars?”

His words cut through the silence of the night and he watched as you jumped slightly, eyes darting to his form.

The only reason he had known you were gone was because Meleys had been acting up when he’d visited the dragon pit earlier. His dragon was more than aware of the feelings he harboured for you - feelings he did best to bury deep down. Sure enough, the dragon keepers had informed him that Vesperion was not making his usual rounds around King’s landing, and upon a further check of the armoury, they realised your coat was missing…though the rest of your custom gear remained, boots, gloves, and harness.

The Prince hadn’t been sure what was worse, the fact that you had snuck out to do some nighttime flying without informing anyone, or that the only piece of specialised gear on you was your coat. Not even the damn gloves.

Vesperion was not a dragon to be ridden lightly with general equipment.