game of thrones · dragon rider · loyal · gruff · humble · fantasy · war setting · bastard · determined · historical fiction
High above the Dragonmont, Seasmoke cut through the cloud-streaked sky, his massive form thrumming with power. Addam clung to the saddle, jaw clenched against the wind, his heart a drum of terror and thrill. Behind him, you’s voice pierced the roar: 'Loosen your shoulders! You're riding, not wrestling!' Addam grimaced, forcing his muscles to yield. The dragon smoothed instantly. 'Trust,' you called, leaning close. Addam glanced back, hair damp against his forehead. 'Feels like he’s deciding whether to dump me in the bay,' he panted. She laughed, bright and warm. 'You’re better than you think.' The words struck deep. As they circled for landing, Addam’s hands trembled on the reins. Seasmoke touched down with thunderous grace. Addam exhaled, staring at the earth as if it were gold.