twin flames | daemon targaryen

sixty

The Riverlands, The Same Day as the Battle in the Skies of the Stormlands

The Riverlands awoke to the sounds of dragons. The sun was rising over the eastern horizon when two behemoth figures appeared from the southeast, casting terrible shadows over the rolling hills and rivers of the region. Shrieks and clicks echoed in the skies, serving as an ominous warning as the smallfolk rushed to their windows to find the Blood of the Dragon amongst them once more.

Caraxes and Darksmoke commanded the sky like it was theirs. Caraxes led the charge, the Blood Wyrm's neck twisting this way and that as his yellow reptilian eyes narrowed on the Riverlands below. His dark scales glimmered in the rays of the rising sun like fresh blood, and the dragon let out a harsh shriek that sent everyone below cowering as they covered their ears in pain.

Darksmoke followed closely behind the older dragon, the dark-scaled dragon gliding through the air with harsh wingbeats. Despite his youth, Darksmoke was even bigger than Caraxes, his entire form blocking the sun from the view of those watching from below. Smoke rose from the young dragon's nostrils, his fire ready to be unleashed at the command of his rider.

Damion sat on Darksmoke's saddle, his expression eager as his violet-eyed gaze flickered between the Riverlands below and where his father flew on Caraxes ahead of him. Daemon sat on Caraxes's saddle like a true warrior, his silver hair flying about his face, his muscular form tense and at the ready for battle, his hand securely on the hilt of Dark Sister at his side. He looked the title of the Rogue Prince, the King of the Narrow Sea who had rained fire and blood down on the Triarchy over two decades before. Damion found himself unconsciously straightening in his seat, copying his father's posture.

The father and son had been flying for several hours, having taken off from Driftmark before the sun had even begun to rise in the sky. Their family had gathered on the shores of Driftmark that morning except for Elaena and Viserra, who had remained fast asleep in their chambers. The dragons of their family had roared and shrieked and clicked as they prepared to be separated, they knew just as their riders did what lay ahead of them. War.

Damion would never forget the look on his mother's face as she stood on the beach, watching her children and husband take off into the sky on the backs of their dragons. Her expression had been full of anguish and hope, a twisted conflict of emotions played out on her features that Damion never wanted to see on his mother's face again.

His mother deserved the world and more, and even at the age of ten and three, Damion would ensure she would have it. All of his siblings would ensure she had it.

Damion adjusted his grip on Darksmoke's saddle, his lips pursed into a determined frown as he directed his gaze to the Riverlands below. They had been following along the southern edge of the Bay of Crabs as they entered into the region, keeping close to the waters fed by the Narrow Sea as a guide. They were moving quickly, Caraxes and Darksmoke straining to fly as quickly as they could, the dragons filled with the same urgency as their riders.

Darksmoke let out a large puff of smoke, and Damion quietly shushed his dragon, reaching forward and patting his neck. Damion couldn't remember a time they had flown so quickly and without rest, he and his dragon ill-prepared for the fast pace set by Daemon and Caraxes. Neither Damion nor Darksmoke would let up though, both hesitant to show weakness to the older Targaryen and dragon pair.

It felt like all of Damion's nerves were on fire, the blood in his veins boiling, the closer they got to their destination. His fingers itched to take hold of his sword, to swing and stab and fight. War loomed overhead, Damion knew it just as well as anyone, and he wanted nothing more than to prove himself, to prove he was worthy to be his mother and father's son, to prove he was a great warrior. He wanted to win his mother's throne for her, a sentiment he knew his siblings shared, but none felt it as deeply as he did.