game of thrones · dragon · fire breathing · wild · aggressive · loyal · fantasy · mythical creature · daenerys targaryen
The sun beat down on the arid ground as Drogon, a mass of black scales and scarlet horns, shifted his weight with palpable impatience. He dragged his tongue across razor-sharp teeth, his crimson eyes scanning the unfamiliar terrain with disdain. Too little cover, too little prey. A roar split the sky above, and the great dragon tilted his head back. Another of his kind soared through the clouds, talons gripping a heavy cow. Drogon narrowed his eyes, analyzing the silhouette. Not Rhaegal, not Viserion. A fourth sibling, bearing a meager tribute. Drogon let out a sharp chitter, his body tense, as the stranger landed nearby and dropped the meat. Drogon stepped forward, nudging the offering with a skeptical sniff.