Flight

Rhaenyra's throat bobbed as she eyed Aerion, his head pressed forward onto the unfamiliar, foreign dragon. Her heartbeat thudded harshly in her chest as her gaze ran over the creature, noting its size—it was around the same as Caraxes maybe smaller. 

The scars that marred its form told tales of battles. A large burn ran down its long tail, the scales melted and discoloured, while shimmering fins trailed along its spine like banners of a fallen warrior.

Its head was misshapen, crowned with sharp, numerous horns that caught the sunlight and glinted like daggers. The scales glowed a pretty purple, a stark contrast to the intimidating scars that were carved into its face. 

It released an otherworldly warble, the air vibrating with the maddening sound. This dragon was like Caraxes and The Cannibal, it had come out the egg wrong.

Caraxes had come from the egg more like a serpent than dragon, its roar more akin to a screech, wings unnaturally small, legs deformed, and a neck almost as long as the rest of its body. 

The Cannibal had come forth malformed, birthed with twisted horns, decaying teeth that routinely fell out and grew back, and a, potent disease that gnawed at its very being.

Unnatural, her mind hissed, as she took another step back. The way Aerion responded to its presence in the throne room unsettled her. Her eyes flicked to Syrax, her dragon huddled against a courtyard wall. 

This new dragon was far too big… if it came down to a fight… She shook her head; it would never come to that. Syrax was fast, and if it did, she would flee.

Taking a deep breath, she returned her focus to Aerion, who had leaned back, speaking in High Valyrian to the dragon. She couldn't hear him, but she could see the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly; he was a quick student. The dragon seemed oddly affectionate, gently bumping its head into Aerion.

A laugh escaped him, the sound bright and carefree, making Rhaenyra's heart flutter. She swallowed as her gaze shifted back to him, the circlet she had gifted him laid effortlessly atop his head.

He looked…princely she admitted to herself, his dark hair framed his grinning face, his purple eyes seeming to spark with some sort of wild emotion she couldn't decipher as her heart rate started to slow. 

Until of course the dragon dropped its shoulder, placing its wing low against the ground, she knew the body language.

An invitation.

Until the dragon dropped its shoulder, its wing low against the ground—a clear invitation.

"Aerion," she hissed sharply, the words spilling out before she realized. He barely paid her any mind as he walked toward the dragon's wing. Her pulse quickened, blood rushing through her veins as she stepped forward, her heart pounding in trepidation.

Syrax hissed a warning, protective of her, and pride swelled in Rhaenyra's chest at her dragon's instinct. Pushing past her fear, she grasped Aerion's forearm, halting him. He turned to her, eyebrows furrowed.

"Rhaenyra," he breathed, as if just noticing her presence.

"You need a saddle first," she said softly, tightening her grip. "You need to learn the basics." Her gaze bore into his, serious and unwavering. An oddly rugged grin spread across his face as he ran a hand through his hair. 

"Don't worry, Princess," he murmured, his tone almost conspiratorial. "I'll be fine." Rhaenyra swallowed her frustration, her grip unyielding.

"This is dangerous; you could fall," she hissed, glancing at the dark dragon, its head turned toward them with a curious tilt. A shiver ran down her spine at the jagged scars running down its face.

"You'll crack your stupid head open," she added, her voice tinged with pleading as she squeezed his forearm.n

Her hand slid down to his hand, interlacing their fingers tightly as her grip tightened further. 

"Don't worry" he repeated, confidence radiating from him as he lifted their interlocked hands, holding them gently before his face. 

His breath brushed against the back of her hand, sending a shiver down her spine as he pressed his lips against it. Rhaenyra felt her breath catch, her heart stuttering as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded her mind.

"You're being stupid," she whispered, her words lacking any bite.

His hand squeezed hers comfortingly. "Then fly with me. Follow on Syrax."

The world stilled at those words. Adrenaline surged through her, nervous but reckless excitement bubbling within her chest. 

"You'll catch me, right?" he added, a teasing challenge in his voice.

"You're being insane," she exclaimed, fingers tightening around his hand. This was crazy, yet the very idea of being in the air with him, soaring beside him, made her heart race with a thrill she couldn't deny.

"Sōvegon lēda nyke" he said, the High Valyrian rolling off of his tongue seamlessly. 

'Fly with me' 

Her gaze instinctively slid to Syrax, who watched closely, sensing her turmoil. The excitement boiled over as her eyes met Aerion's again, and she nodded, her decision solidified.

His face lit up, hand dropping hers as he turned back to the dragon's lowered wing.

"Just be careful," Rhaenyra said seriously. "It looks easier than it actually is," she warned, eyeing the dragon. "Especially without a saddle."

He paused for a moment, glancing back at her with that wild grin. "I told you, I'll be fine." His tone was light, almost teasing, but excitement thrummed beneath it.

Nervously, Rhaenyra's eyes flicked between Aerion's dragon and Syrax, who was growing more restless. "Fine or not, this is dangerous." Her own excitement warred with the instinct to pull him back to safety. She stepped closer to Syrax. "If you fall—"

"Then you'll catch me," he interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he settled onto the dragon's back.

Rhaenyra's chest tightened, blood rushing hotly as she took quick, determined strides toward Syrax. There was no time to argue. Her dragon lowered its wing instinctively, sensing her urgency.

As Aerion's dragon began to move, Rhaenyra climbed onto Syrax with practised ease. She settled into the saddle, quickly chaining herself in, hands trembling slightly.

"Soves," she whispered, her golden dragon swiftly following her command, beating its large wings and tearing into the sky, dozens of metres above the ground in seconds.

Aerion and Gaelithox suddenly burst past them, the dark, scarred form tearing through the skies like an arrow, rising gracefully. Rhaenyra's heart raced as she watched Aerion, his body leaning forward, unrestrained—just sheer will and reckless abandon.

"Aerion!" she shouted, though her voice was swallowed by the howling winds. He didn't hear her or maybe didn't care. Suddenly, his dragon twisted and turned violently, diving down before shooting back up.

Rhaenyra's eyes widened at the stunt, her heart smashing against her chest. Syrax roared in protest beneath her, straining to keep up as Rhaenyra tugged at the reins, urging her dragon to follow.

Her heart pounded, torn between the thrill of the chase and the fear that Aerion would get himself killed. He wasn't usually this reckless, this bold, but there was something about the way he flew now—untethered and passionate—that tightened her chest.

They tore past rocky terrain, the sky opening up as they approached the rugged peaks of the Dragonmont. The castle loomed large in the distance behind them.

Aerion's dragon climbed higher, and Rhaenyra could feel the wind shift, swirling around them as she fought to keep Syrax on course.

With a sudden burst of energy, Gaelithox dove again, spiralling through the air in a way that made Rhaenyra's stomach lurch. She urged Syrax to follow, her heart racing not just from the thrill but from the reckless abandon Aerion displayed. 

This was more than just flying, it was a dance with the wind, a celebration of freedom that made her pulse quicken.

As they plunged through another cloud, a chaotic flurry of mist and vapour enveloped them, and Rhaenyra could barely see. 

She lost sight of Aerion, panic flaring in her chest as she pushed Syrax forward, urging her dragon to stay close. "Aerion!" she shouted again, but the word was lost in the swirling fog.

Suddenly, the cloud thinned, and they burst through into a world of brightness and calm, floating above the clouds. A sudden silence embracing them, the roaring wind falling away. 

Rhaenyra looked around in awe; the landscape below was obscured by a soft blanket of white, the sun casting a golden glow across everything.

And there was Aerion, his silhouette against the radiant sky, arms outstretched as if to embrace the world. The chaotic flight had transformed into a serene glide, and the moment felt suspended in time, as if they were the only beings in existence.

Her heart swelled as she shared in his joy, the thrill of flying washing over her as a breathless laugh escaped her lips. 

This was freedom. 

In that moment, as Aerion turned to face her, a radiant smile brightening his features, her breath caught in her throat at the sight. 

This was life.