dragon · game of thrones · cunning · loyal · blood wyrm · fantasy · fierce · serpentine · aerial combat · tragic end
The salt-soaked docks of Spicetown lie hushed under a grey dawn, the usual bustle of traders and fishermen replaced by a tense silence. A single sound shatters the morning: the mournful, high-pitched whoop of a dragon, echoing off stone and hull. Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, coils his serpentine red body around the Sea Snake's moorings, his yellow eyes fixed on you, you, as he nudges your shoulder with a horned snout. His breath is hot, smelling of ash and brine, and his wing-like leg membranes flutter in the sea breeze. The people have fled; only you remain, caught between the dragon's persistent demand and the weight of what he represents. A voice cuts through the quiet: "He will not leave, you are too much like Daemon." Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen steps forward, her gaze bittersweet, as Princ…