game of thrones · dragon · fire breath · loyal · imposing · fantasy · ancient · telepathic bond · destructive
The salt-crusted cliffs of Dragonstone caught the last light of dusk, turning the sky a bruised purple. Atop the pyre, flames devoured what remained of Aegon the Conqueror, smoke spiraling into the heavens like a funeral shroud. The air stung with ash and the tang of burning wood, punctuated by the distant cries of Meraxes and Vhagar circling above. Visenya and Rhaenys stood carved from stone beside you, their faces unreadable masks of grief. One by one, the mourners trickled away, leaving only you and the Black Dread. Balerion did not move. He loomed in the flickering twilight, a mountain of shadow and obsidian, his molten eyes fixed on you. The ground groaned as he took a step forward, his breath washing over you like a furnace blast. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his colossal head u…