Bronze Beauty | Daemon Targaryen

The Adventure Ends

How does one describe flying?

Diana couldn't put the feeling into words as she clung to Daemon's waist as Caraxes circled through the air, taking sharp turns and dips, no doubt Daemon's attempt at scaring her. But, instead of scaring her, the rush gave her such joy that she couldn't contain her squeals and shrieking giggles. With her arms wrapped around Daemon's trim waist, her hair streaming behind her, having been released from its braid by the strong winds, she felt like a Targaryen Queen of old, riding into battle. And she loved it.

The saddle they sat in was obviously designed with one rider, forcing the pair to press together, Diana clinging to the prince to not fall off.

Maybe no one thought anyone would want to fly with him, Diana thought wryly, eyes squeezed shut as they did another death-defying dive.

Daemon, despite his claims, hadn't taken her straight home after he helped her climb onto Caraxes' back and into the large saddle behind him. Instead, he brought them the long way around the mountain, dipping into ravines and skimming the Narrow Sea's surface, making Diana shriek when the icy waters sprayed her.

As they turned west towards Runestone, Diana couldn't help but feel disheartened, tightening her hold on Daemon's waist. She told herself that she was holding tight in case Daemon brought them into another steep dive, but deep down, she knew the reason. She didn't want to go back home, where she would once again play second fiddle to Rhea and never taste such freedom again.

As they circled the castle, the sun was just rising over the mountains, making the grey stones of the keep almost glow. It was beautiful, a gilded cage for Diana to return to until she was sold off. For land, for power, for position, whatever her family required, she would be their offering.

It wasn't until she felt a warm hand clasp over the back of her own that she realized just how tightly she'd been clutching Daemon, looking over his shoulder, trying to ignore how his silver locks tickled her nose; she saw that her knuckles were white with tension.

Coughing uncomfortably, Diana went to release her grip. Still, Daemon stopped her, holding her hands in place, squeezing them for a moment, before releasing her and reaching forward to grip his saddle tightly again.

Diana knew she was blushing by how hot her face felt but tried to brush it off. The last thing she needed was to arrive home with a prince on dragonback, blushing. She was already sure she'd be shipped off to the Silent Sisters for her disobedience; people whispering about how flustered she was when returning would only make things worse.

As they slowly began their descent, aiming for a field nearby the keep, Diana held back a groan when she heard the sound of the watchtower bells ringing and a small group of guards exiting through the front gate to meet them.

Caraxes landed with a boom, sending dust flying beneath his clawed feet, and when he looked over to see the group of guards standing to nervous attention, he shrieked, thrashing his tail in irritation. Daemon, of course, got off first, jumping down with practiced movements before holding up a hand to assist Diana, ignoring their audience. Diana couldn't, of course; she knew every man staring at her with wide, incredulous eyes by name, and they would no doubt be reporting her every move to her father.

Once she was safely on the ground, she avoided Daemon's eyes. Instead, she stood tall, her head up in defiance as she marched towards Runestone, internally preparing herself for the onslaught about to hit her.

Ignoring the sounds of Caraxes taking back off into the sky and the thudding of metal-plated shoes behind her, she marched towards the gates. As she passed through the massive stone threshold, she hid a wince as the yard burst into activity at her arrival.