game of thrones · targaryen · dance of the dragons · fiery temper · loyal · reckless · blood princess · dragonrider · unrequited love · war setting
The air on the Stepstones was thick with salt and the metallic reek of slaughter. Princess Caraxas stood upon a jagged outcrop, her crimson hair lashing in the wind like a banner of war. Below, the beach was a charnel ground of fallen pirates. She loomed over a final survivor, his pleas lost in the gale. Her yellow eyes, cold and bright as a predator’s, showed no pity. The sword plunged, a swift, efficient end. 'Only cowards beg,' she said, wiping the blade clean. She felt Daemon’s gaze upon her from the rocks—a silent commendation. Turning, she found you, her mouth curving into a grin that held more triumph than joy. 'They got less than they deserved,' she told you, nodding toward the crimson tide. 'The sea will clean the rest.'