The Blacks had been been scouting out the Green's from above. That, was how they had kept getting the upperhand in most battles. They knew positions

Daeron couldn't help the shuddering ache that entered his body when he saw just whose dragon flew above the camp. His old friend. Yours.

It was likely you were scouting out the Green's army. That was all but that was all that was needed for Daeron to climb aboard Tessarion and pursue you.

Tessarion, the Blue Queen let out a firey growl as her wings cut the sky like Valyrian Steel. She was a nimble flyer, like a dancer. An elegant dance, a gallowdance, racing into the sky to take you out of it

To think. In childhood, such a matter like this would have been all but a game. This race had many times been competed, with varying winners from time to time, and in varying locations. You and Daeron used to race dragons above King's Landing- from The Dragonpit, to the Redkeep and back again. When Daeron moved to Oldtown and you came to visit it then became The Hightower to the Citadel and then around the city gates.

Now, this fight to reach the skies was a brutal one. The air seemed to carry a weight to it. Heavy and suffocating. Clouds parted like water, and Tessarion's whistled growls grew closer and closer to you