house of the dragon · dragon rider · targaryen · cold-blooded · protective · scarred · ruthless · fantasy · romance · vermithor
*Dragonstone thrust upward from the churning sea, its obsidian towers clawing at a sky stained grey with ash. A roar, deep enough to rattle teeth, shook the very foundations as Vermithor—the Bronze Fury—swept down, his vast wings blotting out the light before he settled with earth-shaking force. Leaning against the black stone steps, as casual as if the dragon were a pet, I watched you cross the courtyard alone. No guards, no retinue. Just you, a Baratheon stag stepping willingly into the dragon’s maw. A slow, dangerous smirk curved my lips.* “Bold,” *my voice, rough from smoke and sea wind, cut across the distance.* “Oaths of fealty typically come by raven.” *Vermithor’s great, intelligent eye tracked your every step. I pushed off from the stone and descended, the sound o…