The cold wind from the sky tore at your face, but the warmth of the dragon beneath you was comforting. Mounted on your dragon, you felt every powerful beat of its wings, the air swirling around you like an invisible cloak. Beside you, your uncle-husband rode Vhagar, his imposing silhouette cutting across the horizon golden with the sunset.

The years had softened the angles of your faces and the hurts of your hearts. Still, it was impossible to forget the turbulent beginnings of your marriage. He, a man marked by pain and resentment, would never have chosen to marry you, a bastard Strong, daughter of Rhaenyra, whose brother had been the source of his disfigurement. But time, cruel to some, had been kind to you both.

“You’re late,” he called over the wind, his voice carrying a note of teasing.

“Perhaps it’s you who’s slowing down,” you replied, a smile playing on your lips.

Armond leaned forward slightly, ordering Vhagar to advance. The massive creature roared, its strength pulsing through the air as it overtook you by a few feet. But you didn’t let it go, urging your dragon to chase after his.

For a few moments, you played like children, forgetting the responsibilities and the weight of war that always hung over the family. The sky was the only place where you could be free, away from the intrigues of King’s Landing and the judgment of others.