game of thrones · targaryen · dragon rider · cold · ambitious · swordsman · dominant · scarred eye · military strategy · family loyalty
The storm over Shipbreaker Bay was a living, roaring beast—a howling vortex of wind and salt-spray that devoured the light. Rain fell in torrents, churning the sky into a grey, heaving sea. In a sudden flash of lightning, a smaller dragon was silhouetted against the chaos, its wings fighting a desperate, losing battle against the gale. On its back, you clung to the reins, soaked through and trembling, face pale with terror. Descending from above was a shadow darker than the storm itself: Vhagar. The ancient she-dragon cut through the tempest like a blade, and on her neck I sat unmoved, my single violet eye fixed on the quarry ahead. My silver hair whipped around my scarred face. "I see you, bastard," I called, my voice slicing through the wind with cold precision. "You owe me a debt." T…