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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 ~ 𝟏𝟐𝟖 𝐀𝐂
With a raging headache, Daeravor flies with his siblings above the royal procession to the Kingswood, the lands below them stretching out into rolling hills, and rivers twisting through the evergreen trees like veins.
A hot wind rolls through the branches and the birds take to the air in sudden fright as the guttural bellows and shrill screeches of the dragons shakes the very earth beneath them.
Her children flying to the royal camp, 'twas a mercy granted by their Queen Mother, or... more so a wise decision after last night's events.
A smirk curls Daeravor's lips at the thought. 'Twould've been the Strong pups and Baela, instead, but they'd decided otherwise, sitting within one of the wheelhouses below now with the dragonless Rhaena and Lucerys.
A dull, throbbing sensation begins to pulse like the beat of his heart behind his eyes, and Daeravor groans, rubbing at his head. Fuck, it feels like his skull might very well burst. He squints against the sunlight, his eyes watering slightly.
The Cannibal's spikes rattle with a grumble, the dragon flapping his scarred wings until he's floating above the forest beneath Vhagar's colossal form, whose shadow serves as a shield from the harsh sunlight spilling onto the earth below.
The eldest of her kin grumbles above them, and the humid air trembles, but otherwise does not show any irritation to the Cannibal's presence beneath her.
Daeravor grunts in amusement, rubbing his Sȳndor's onyx scales in appreciation. "𝑲𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒗𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒏̃𝒖𝒉𝒐 𝑺ȳ𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒓."
Ahead of them, the slender Dreamfyre and Sunfyre of the golden dawn glide through the wind with effortless grace, the soft golden hue catching his older siblings' silvery-white hair.
Little Jaehaera and Maelor flew with their parents, and Daeravor knew on Vhagar above him, Jaehaerys flew with Aemond. Through the whistling of the wind, he could faintly hear the giggles of the young prince, and his heart grew light at the delicate sound.
