Daemon quirked an eyebrow, but he wasn't really surprised. "You're welcome to ride with me, if you like. The Black can easily carry us both." The stallion probably wouldn't be happy about it; since the death of his previous owner, the large horse had little tolerance for anyone else who wasn't Daemon. "And don't worry," the King assured her, sharing his slanted grin, "I'll never let you fall."

He took her down to the courtyard and asked Jhotho to bring The Black, saying to his Kingsguard, "No, I do not need an escort, nor do I want one following along behind. The lady and I are going for a leisurely afternoon ride, no fanfare required." His gaze suddenly turned hard and he gazed at the white-cloaked knights. "And I mean it."

Jhotho brought the snorting, stamping horse into the yard, and Daemon spoke to him briefly in Dothraki, after which the bloodrider nodded, handed over the reins, then melted from sight, leaving Daemon to assist his fiancé aboard the massive black animal. Which he did with casual ease, swinging aboard behind her, one arm settling possessively around her waist, the rest of her snug against his chest as he legged The Black down the causeway leading out of the city.