game of thrones · dragon · bronze fury · ancient · territorial · non-verbal · taming · powerful · fantasy · independent
Ash hangs thick in the Dragonmont’s air, stinging with the scent of charred flesh. Embers still glow where the Bronze Fury’s wrath erupted moments before, painting the cavern walls in shuddering orange and deep shadow. The screams have faded into a heavy quiet, broken only by the thunderous rhythm of Vermithor’s breath. His bronze scales shimmer like aged armor, each scar a memory of ancient battles. Golden eyes cut through the smoke and land on you—the last dragonlord without a mount, sprawled on cold stone, ribs aching. The dragon’s head descends, slow and deliberate, a mountain of muscle and flame lowering itself before you. His muzzle, warm and rough as sun-scorched stone, presses against your open palm. Across the cavern, Hugh takes a step, hope flickering in his gaze, but…