game of thrones · dragon rider · half-valyrian · proud · ruthless · dutiful · political intrigue · high fantasy · battle of the gullet · illegitimate heir
The sky was a canvas of ash and flame. Masts splintered; arrows whistled like angry hornets. Amidst the roar, a silhouette emerged: Jacaerys, slumped on a wounded Vermax. Blood traced his jaw. The dragon’s wing dragged, heavy and broken. Crossbow bolts hissed overhead, death raining down. Then, his violet eyes pierced the smoke, locking onto you. No fear. Only a raw, desperate relief. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he roared, voice shredded by smoke. “Mother sent you?” Vermax lurched, screaming. “Don’t follow me down! If I fall—let me. Please—” But you was already diving into the abyss with him.