𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

[zokladraconis]

𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 ----𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝕴 𝖆𝖒 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊.

ZOKLADRACONIS- INDEPENDENT, MUTUAL EXCLUSIVE AND SELECTIVE BLOG FOR A MULTIMUSE FEATURING THE DIREWOLVES AND DRAGONS FROM A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE AND HBO'S GAME OF THRONES UNIVERSE. CST + 3. SHE/HER. WRITTEN BY CALI. (#)

psa: the direwolves and dragons portrayed here will not shapeshift or have faceclaims. they do not talk telepathically or talk at all, the understanding and bond portrayed will be shown through their thought process as magical creatures of higher intellect but no talking will be portrayed.

LIST OF DRAGONS AND DIREWOLVES:

dragons:

balerion

merexes

morghul

vermax*

sunfyre

syrax

caraxes

valor (oc dragon of jon snow)

drogon

rhaegal (per request)

viserion*

morning

silverwing

moondancer (upong request)

meleys (upon request)

seasmoke

vhagar (upon request)

tessarion

grey ghost

sheepstealer (upon request)

shrykos

*both vermax and viserion, despite canon depiction, they are portrayed as female dragons.

direwolves:

ghost

grey wind

summer

nymeria

lady (upon request)

shadow (cregan stark oc direwolf)

sandborn (sara snow direwolf)

rød streik (king torrhen stark direwolf)

shaggydog

kryken (oc direwolf for theon)

[zokladraconis]

@vi0lnt 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

Kryken   moved   silently   through   the   corridors,   his   massive   paws   barely   making   a   sound   against   the   cold   stone   floors.   His   pale   yellow   eyes   flicked   from   side   to   side,   ever   watchful,   ever   alert.   The   scents   of   the   keep   filled   his   nose—smoke,   damp   stone,   the   musk   of   men—but   it   was   Theon’s   scent   he   followed,   a   thread   of   familiarity   in   a   world   that   had   become   increasingly   strange.

When   Kryken   found   him,   Theon   was   seated   in   the   great   hall,   his   posture   tense   as   he   spoke   with   another   man.   The   direwolf   could   sense   the   unease   radiating   from   him,   the   underlying   tension   in   his   every   word.   Without   hesitation,   Kryken   padded   over   to   Theon’s   side,   settling   at   his   feet   with   a   quiet   huff.   His   duty   was   clear,   and   no   amount   of   coaxing   or   commanding   would   move   him   from   his   place.

As   the   conversation   continued,   Kryken   kept   his   head   low,   his   gaze   fixed   on   the   others   in   the   room.   Any   movement,   any   sign   of   threat,   and   he   would   be   on   his   feet   in   an   instant,   a   wall   of   fur   and   muscle   between   Theon   and   whatever   dared   approach.   When   Theon   shifted   in   his   chair,   Kryken’s   ears   perked   up,   his   body   tensing   in   anticipation   of   movement.   The   moment   Theon   stood,   Kryken   rose   with   him.   He   was   Theon’s   shield,   his   silent   protector.   No   matter   what   the   others   said   or   how   they   tried   to   dismiss   him,   Kryken   knew   where   he   belonged—at   Theon’s   side,   always.

[khalesci]

ㅤㅤㅤDANY  GIGGLES  AT  THE  TICKLE  OF  SCALES  AGAINST  HER  PALM,  her  smile  growing  as  Viserion's  snout  brushes  over  the  bump  of  her  stomach.  They  will  both  be  mothers  soon  enough,  and  the  thought  is  comforting,  whereas  once  she  had  assumed  they  would  both  be  the  last  of  their  kinds.  All  the  things  that  lay  before  her,  the  battles,  the  war  for  the  dawn,  it  does  not  all  seem  so  fatalistic  now,  not  with  this  new  hope  for  the  future.

ㅤㅤㅤShe  takes  note  of  how  Viserion  reacts  when  she  mentions  Viserys,  a  brow  quirking.  ❝ You  really  do  like  him,  don't  you?  ❞  Seeing  Viserys  with  Viserion  had  brought  out  a  side  in  him  Dany  hadn't  seen  since  they  were  children,  too.  For  the  first  time  in  forever,  she  saw  wonder  in  her  brother's  eyes.  Hope.  She  brushes  her  fingers  atop  the  dragon's  scales,  musing,  ❝ His  wife  is  with  child,  too.  Perhaps  we  should  give  an  egg  to  them  as  well,  to  bring  back  the  old  tradition.  ❞

ㅤㅤㅤA  pause,  more  considerations  taken  as  Dany  watches  Rhaegal  and  Drogon  chase  each  other  deeper  into  the  caves.  ❝ You  know,  you  fly  well  with  me  and  your  brothers,  but  it's  hard  to  command  all  three  of  you  in  the  air  when  I  am  only  one  person.  I  can  only  ride  one  of  you,  and  we  have  battles  to  come  that  require  your  presence.  I  would  feel  better  if  I  knew  you  had  someone  with  you.  ❞  Her  head  tilts,  looking  into  the  dragon's  golden  eye.  ❝ What  if  he  was  your  rider?  Would  you  accept  him?  ❞

[zokladraconis]

The   she-dragon   shakes   her   head   as   it   rest   upon   Dany's   shoulder   for   a   moment   in   a   nodding   motion.   The   man   is   not   exactly   the   best   option.   She   is   aware   of   his   best   and   how   he   had   treated   her   mother   (   even   remembers   the   faint   memory   of   being   an   egg   and   strange   hands   trying   to   steal   them,   hands   she   now   recognize   as   his   own   ).   The   dragon   sees   something   else   entirely   in   the   man   before   them   and   someone   who   might   be   worthy   of   having   a   dragon   of   his   own.   Viserion   roars   gently   with   a   rumble   by   her   throat   in   agreement   at   the   mention   of   a   babe   and   a   dragon   egg.  

She   knew   of   such   tradition   too.   Viserys   was   in   that   place   named   Dorne   that   was   warm   and   dry,   an   egg   would   grow   nicely   there,   she   hopes.   But   her   mother   speaks   more   and   she   knows   what   she   is   offering.   There   is   a   sadness   perhaps   in   her,   that   her   mother   is   offering   her   to   another   rider,   and   she   comforts   her   with   another   snout   to   her   head,   nuzzling   her   neck.  

She   does   not   want   to   leave   her   brothers   or   her   mother,   but   Dragons   knew   that   without   a   rider,   they   would   be   wild   ones.   She   cannot   be   a   wild   one   if   she   is   to   have   her   hatchlings   soon.   So   Viserion   looks   with   golden   eyes   and   nods   their   head   in   understanding,   before   tongue   licks   the   side   of   Dany's   head,   as   if   to   be   forgive   nfor   thinking   of   another   rider.

[zokladraconis]

makinga gif pack of my laena faceclaim and how can daemon not be with her

[hvitrulv]

ㅤㅤㅤHE'D  HEARD  COMPLAINTS  ALL  DAY  OF  GHOST'S  BEHAVIOR.  Jon  had  first  assumed  his  quiet  shadow  had  gone  off  on  his  own  to  hunt  in  explanation  of  why  he  was  not  at  his  side,  but  hearing  that  he  was  lurking  in  the  corridors  of  Winterfell  felt  odd.  It  was  unusual  for  the  direwolf  to  linger  indoors  when  not  following  his  human  counterpart.  But  it  was  a  small  matter,  or  so  he  thought,  and  as  king  he  had  too  much  to  contend  with  to  take  the  time  to  investigate.

ㅤㅤㅤBut  as  the  day  went  on  and  more  and  more  complaints  were  made,  Jon  knew  that  something  was  wrong.  It's  only  a  matter  of  time  before  someone  gets  bitten  if  he  does  not  intervene.  Footsteps  carry  him  from  hall  to  hall,  searching  for  the  most  recent  sightings  of  the  white  wolf.  He  finds  him  outside  the  door  to  his  own  chambers,  wherein  Val  lay  abed,  overcome  by  a  sudden  sickness  this  past  week.  It  makes  more  sense  now,  he  thinks,  the  bit  of  panic  he  had  held  easing  when  he  realizes  Ghost  must  simply  be  worried  for  Val.  He  presses  his  palm  to  the  direwolf's  snout  in  greeting,  bringing  his  fingers  to  scratch  behind  his  ear.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ I  hear  you've  been  terrorizing  the  castle  today.  What's  wrong?  Are  you  worried  about  Val?  ❞  Jon  questions.  But  as  his  eyes  pass  over  the  door,  he  comes  to  a  realization.  He  didn't  do  this  the  last  time  Val  was  sick.  Sure,  it  hadn't  lasted  as  long,  only  a  passing  winter  illness,  but  she  is  arguably  less  ill  now  than  she  was  then.  Only  tired,  and  unsettled  of  stomach.  ❝ She's  just  a  little  sick.  She'll  get  better  soon  enough.  ❞  Even  so,  Jon's  brows  bend,  dark  steel  looking  into  the  blood  red  hues  of  the  wolf.  ❝ Isn't  she?  ❞  he  questions,  knowing  that  the  wolf  has  a  sight  that  sees  more  than  what  most  can.  ❝ Ghost,  what  do  you  know?  ❞  Jon  taps  upon  his  temple  in  a  familiar  signal  to  the  direwolf,  and  in  his  mind,  he  tugs  at  the  thread  of  their  bonded  souls,  seeking  to  see  through  the  wolf's  eyes,  to  smell  and  feel  what  he  senses.  ❝ Show  me.  ❞

[zokladraconis]

The   wolf   barks   loud,   tongue   out   as   he   breathes   with   ease   amused   at   the   choice   of   words.   Terrorizing   was   a   weird   choice   of   word   for   him,   considering   that   he   had   been   as   kind   as   he   could   be.   But   how   could   no   human   tell   that   they   were   signs   there?   He   thought   they   were   more   keen   to   thse   things,   specially   with   winter   passing   and   birth   of   spring   and   new   pups   and   creatures.   He   pushes   upon   Jon's   shoulder,   as   if   it's   his   fault,   as   he   hadn't   entirely   been   out   of   Val's   chambers   for   that   much   to   the   point   he   thought   they   would   begin   to   share   a   bed.  

The   direwold   shake   as   he   speaks   of   being   better,   and   a   whine   from   the   back   of   his   throat   comes   by,   a   paw   pressing   on   Jon's   knee   as   if   trying   to   catch   his   attention   and   make   him   see.   And   when   he   is   asked,   Ghost   does   show   him;   syntoms   that   are   no   winter   illness,   but   something   akin   to   what   humans   call   a   pregnancy:  

Val's   change   in   desired   food,   swalling   of   her   breast   she   had   complained,   morning   sickness   and   perhaps   the   most   telltale   sign   of   all,   he   shows   him   that   when   he   rest   his   head   on   Val's   knees,   he   feels   two   heartbeats   instead   of   one   before   red   eyes   face   grey   ones,   excited   tapping   of   paws   on   the   ground   to   see   if   Jon   finally   guesses   it.

[bigdaddydaemon-deactivated20250]

the rogue prince could feel his mount's restlessness these days , the ANNOYANCE the blood wyrm had felt confined to the lands of harrenhal. daemon couldn't blame the beast , for he , too , had itched to take to the skies , again , far from the horrors he'd been met with every night. their welcome had been overstayed ; and while it had been joyous to reunite with his lady wife , daemon had no doubt that caraxes had spent time with the she - dragon , syrax.

with every step , daemon's armor clanks. he keeps a hand atop dark sister's pommel , his valyrian steel helm dangling in the other as he approaches caraxes. he is forced back a step , the beast not hiding his displeasure as he nuzzles his rider. the heat from the dragon's exasperated exhale warms his skin , though he does not shy away from it ──── as a targaryen , he was used to the heat , used to the flame the dragons spat. some might even say that their BLOOD ran hot . . .

" iksan vaoreznuni , caraxes , " [ i am sorry , caraxes ] the king consort drags his hand down the length of the blood wyrm's snout , holding his gaze even as the beast pulls back. never would he leave his mount , again ; never would he force him to remain grounded while he sulked about , angered over a silly spat with his lady wife. " ivestragī īlva gūrogon naejot se jēdrar istin tolī. kosti sōvegon rȳ mirre hen vesteros lo ao jaelagon. " [ let us take to the skies once more. we may fly across all of westeros if you wish. ] placing his helm atop his head , daemon makes for caraxes's side and climbs into the saddle.

[zokladraconis]

The   Blood   Wyrm   shakes   his   head   down   to   his   tail,   akin   to   a   groan   and   faign   ignorance   at   the   man   as   the   king   consort   spoke   to   him.   He   knew   their   stay   in   Harrenhal   had   not   been   entire   his   fault,   but   whatever   lay   on   those   ground   had   been   haunting   them   both   through   the   bond   and   he   was   more   than   glad   to   be   away   from   it   at   any   opportunity   she   got.  

And   despite   the   dragon's   attempt   to   leave   and   not   indulge   and   fall   for   the   attention,   he   leans   into   the   hand   that   is   upon   his   snout,   the   never   ending   wiggle   of   his   neck   leans   into   it   as   the   dragon   closes   his   eyes   and   while   still   angry,   there   is   a   toothy   grin   upon   the   dragon's   lips.

  he   had   missed   his   mount   more   than   he   would   say   to   anyone.   The   promise   of   the   skies   is   one   met   with   a   screech   of   his,   to   others   it's   deadly   but   Daemon   would   know   that   it's   out   of   excitement   as   the   intention   is   clear   when   the   other   leans   on   his   side   and   goes   into   the   saddle.   Long   neck   turns   around   to   look   at   Daemon   a   gentler   screech   giving   before   he   pushes   snout   on   the   saddle,   so   he   don't   forget   to   tie   himself.   It   had   been   a   long   time   without   a   flight   and   he   is   not   going   gentle.   Wings   spread   and   move   toward   the   entrance   and   he   awaits   for   the   unspoken   command   to   be   given.

[zokladraconis]

caraxes to daemon: I DID MY WAITING, 12 YEARS IN AZKABAN!

[zokladraconis]

watched the lost world with mari, that was 5 movies into one.

[zokladraconis]

@zoklaanogar 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙   𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉   𝕵𝖔𝖓   𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒   𝖆   𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊,   𝖍𝖎𝖘   𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖓   𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘   𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌   𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞   𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖙𝖑𝖊   𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖋𝖙   𝖎𝖓   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖒𝖆𝖓'𝖘   𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊. Jon   had   been   sullen   for   days,   his   mind   clouded   with   thoughts   that   weighed   heavily   on   his   heart.   Ghost   could   sense   the   turmoil   within   him,   the   bond   they   shared   allowing   him   to   feel   the   echoes   of   Jon's   pain.

The   memory   of   that   terrible   day   lingered   in   Ghost's   mind,   the   day   he   felt   Jon   die.   The   agony   of   that   moment   had   nearly   shattered   their   connection,   but   somehow,   they   had   both   survived,   bound   together   by   a   thread   as   thin   as   it   was   unbreakable.   Jon's   soul   was   guarded   now,   as   if   Ghost's   very   presence   was   what   kept   it   tethered   to   this   world.

The   direwolf's   gaze   flickered   to   the   red   priestess   and   Ghost   left   her   side,   padding   silently   across   the   cold   stone   floor   until   he   reached   Jon.   Without   hesitation,   Ghost   pushed   his   snout   into   Jon's   hand,   a   gesture   of   concern,   a   reminder   that   he   was   not   alone.

[zokladraconis]

@hvitrulv 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙   𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖑   𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖞   𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖊𝖓   𝖉𝖔𝖔𝖗,   𝖍𝖎𝖘   𝖗𝖊𝖉   𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘   𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌   𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊   𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓   𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖘   𝖎𝖓   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖉𝖎𝖒   𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖔𝖗. The   scent   of   winter   clung   to   the   stones,   cold   and   biting,   but   Ghost   barely   noticed.   His   focus   was   on   the   door,   on   the   woman   inside,   and   on   the   faintest   of   sounds   that   echoed   through   the   hall.

Servants   and   knights   had   approached   throughout   the   day,   their   footsteps   hesitant   and   uncertain.   Some   had   come   with   purpose,   others   out   of   mere   curiosity.   But   each   time,   Ghost   had   met   them   with   a   low   growl,   his   hackles   raised,   lips   curling   back   just   enough   to   show   the   sharp   points   of   his   teeth.   It   was   enough   to   send   them   scurrying   away,   muttering   about   the   direwolf’s   foul   mood.

Ghost's   ears   pricked   up,   and   his   tail   gave   a   slight   wag.   The   tension   in   his   muscles   eased,   the   growl   that   had   been   forming   in   his   throat   vanished.   Jon’s   presence   was   as   familiar   to   Ghost.   He   watched   as   Jon   approached,   his   dark   eyes   meeting   the   direwolf’s   gaze.   Ghost   leaned   into   the   touch,   his   eyes   half-closing   in   contentment.   The   scent   of   Jon,   of   cold   steel   and   leather,   was   comforting,   a   reminder   of   their   bond.   With   Jon   near,   the   need   to   protect   was   tempered   by   the   trust   he   had   on   him.

[zokladraconis]

if balerion was alive he would not let the viserys slander go around.

[khalesci]

ㅤㅤㅤSHE'D  HAD  HER  SUSPICIONS  FOR  A  WHILE.  Viserys  was  the  first  she'd  heard  voice  the  same  thoughts  aloud,  giving  more  credence  to  the  possibility  that  it  might  be  more  than  only  a  hopeful  imagination.  Since  then,  the  signs  became  easier  to  notice.  Her  brother  had  mentioned  stories  of  the  dragon  Syrax  laying  clutches  when  her  bonded  Rhaenyra  was  with  child,  but  back  then  Dany  had  brushed  it  off as only a tale of the past.  Now,  as  her  own  child grows  within  her,  the  changes  in  Viserion's  behavior  have  become  undeniable.  She  is  nesting,  that  much  is  certain,  though  whether  any  eggs  would  be  found  is  still  a  doubtful  thing.

ㅤㅤㅤThat  is,  until  Daenerys  sees  the  clutch  with  her  own  eyes.  Dany  can  hear  the  whispers  that  erupt  behind  her  among  those  that  have  accompanied  her  here  in  search  of  Viserion's  nest.  Amethyst  eyes  come  alight,  a  new  hope  blooming  within  her  chest.  She  will  not  be  the  last  dragon,  and  neither  will  her  children.  ❝ Ñuha  gevie  riña.  I  should  have  known.  ❞  The  queen  stays  in  place  until  Viserion  nudges  an  egg  forward,  approaching  with  great  care  as  she  eases  gently  onto  her  knees  beside  Viserion's  curled  form.  The  egg  is  warm  to  the  touch.  Alive.  Far  different  from  the  stone  eggs  she  had  once  cared  for,  yet  the  same  as  they  had  been  in  her  dreams,  full  of  heat  and  life.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ And  just  how  long  were  you  planning  on  hiding  them?  I  swear,  it's  as  if  you've  made  a  game  of  this,  ❞  Dany  teases,  a  brow  quirking  as  she  looks  up  to  Viserion.  Her  palm  presses  against  the  egg,  and  as  she  does,  she  feels  a  kick  within  her  own  growing  belly,  a  sharp  inhale  while  her  free  hand  moves  to  the  source  of  the  movement.  And  she  swears,  just  as  she  does,  she  feels  something  pulse  within  the  egg  as  well.  ❝ Not  even  born,  and  they're  both  being  rowdy,  ❞  the  queen  laughs,  taking  the  egg  to  cradle  in  her  arms,  sitting  back  more  comfortably  as  she  rests  against  Viserion.  A  hand  stretches  outward,  beckoning  the  dragon  to  press  her  snout  to  her  palm  so  she  may  show  her  affection.  ❝ I  suppose  this  means  I'm  going  to  have  to  tell  my  brother  he  was  right.  I'm  already  imagining  you  two  snickering  about  this  together.  ❞

[zokladraconis]

She   is   proud   of   herself,   something   alike   a   snicker   from   a   dragon   as   Mother   seems   to   jest   at   how   she   had   kept   the   secret.   She   never   really   cared   for   that,   she   could   be   a   brother   too   if   she   desired,   but   things   changed   when   Daenerys   herself   fell   pregnant   and   Viserion   had   the   urge   to   nest,   protectiveness   over   the   clutch   of   egg   that   now   lay   safe   and   warm.  

She   remembers   the   brother   telling   their   mother   how   certain   was   she   that   they   were   all   male   and   she   laughs,   pressing   her   snout   to   Dany's   palm   and   nuzzling,   before   she   scoots   down,   to   snout   the   bump   that   was   now   showing.   She   too   has   a   dragon   of   her   own,   though   it   seems   to   be   only   one.  

At   the   mention   of   Viserys   the   she   dragon   huffs   and   shakes   her   body,   she   had   been   wanting   to   see   the   brother   again,   named   after   him,   a   man   much   changed   than   the   one   she   had   felt   before,   this   one   looks   alike   the   brother   their   mother   missed.   Perhaps   he   could   be   her   rider   too   and   protect   the   babes.   She   lays   besode   Dany   to   show   affection   and   protection,   a   flapping   of   wings   to   push   Rhaegal   and   Drogon   away.   It   was   her   turn   to   be   spoiled   now.

[zokladraconis]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: hit the heart for a starter from one of my direwolves muses. please specify which one and if you are a multimuse, specify your own muse. most of the starters will be set during the later seasons of got (if the wolves are in got) and season two (if they are in hotd).

direwolves:

ghost

grey wind

summer

nymeria

lady (upon request)

shadow (cregan stark oc direwolf)

sandborn (sara snow direwolf)

rød streik (king torrhen stark direwolf)

shaggydog

kryken (oc direwolf for theon)

[zokladraconis]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: hit the heart for a starter from one of my dragon muses. please specify which one and if you are a multimuse, specify your own muse. most of the starters will be set during the later seasons of got (if the dragons are in got) and season two (if they are in hotd). the conquest dragons are also available in aus where they survived until the dance.

dragons:

balerion

merexes

morghul

vermax*

sunfyre

syrax

caraxes

valor (oc dragon of jon snow)

drogon

rhaegal (per request)

viserion*

morning

silverwing

moondancer (upong request)

meleys (upon request)

seasmoke

vhagar (upon request)

tessarion

grey ghost

sheepstealer (upon request)

shrykos

*vermax and viserion are portrayed here as female dragons.

[zokladraconis]

@worthyheir 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋   𝖕𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉   𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞   𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖘   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊   𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖗   𝖔𝖋   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗. His   golden   eyes   locked   onto   the   figure   entering   the   room—Prince   Jacaerys,   the   scent   of   salt   and   wind   still   clinging   to   him   from   his   flight.   The   direwolf’s   muscles   tensed,   his   ears   pricking   forward   as   he   assessed   the   prince,   who   had   been   scarce   in   recent   days.

A   low   growl   rumbled   in   Sandborn’s   chest,   but   it   was   more   a   warning   than   a   threat.   The   direwolf   could   sense   the   changes   in   his   mistress,   Sara.   Her   scent   had   altered,   and   the   subtle   shifts   in   her   behavior   had   not   escaped   his   sharp   instincts.   She   was   with   child,   and   that   made   Sandborn   even   more   vigilant,   his   protective   nature   amplified   by   the   new   life   growing   within   her.

Sandborn   barked   once,   sharp   and   clear,   as   if   to   say,   She   is   well,   but   where   have   you   been ? Sandborn   was   not   finished.   He   moved   forward,   nuzzling   Jacaerys’s   hand,   then   scoffing   softly   as   he   pushed   it   away   with   his   snout—a   scolding   gesture.   He   had   been   patient,   but   Sara   needed   the   prince   by   her   side   now   more   than   ever.

The   direwolf’s   gaze   softened   for   a   moment,   recognizing   the   bond   between   the   prince   and   his   mistress.   Sandborn   would   watch   over   Sara,   as   he   always   had,   but   it   was   time   for   Jacaerys   to   fulfill   his   role   in   this   as   well.  

[zokladraconis]

@bigmamarhaenyra 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓   𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘,   𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖉   𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍   𝖆   𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕,   𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉   𝖍𝖚𝖒   𝖆𝖘   𝖍𝖊𝖗   𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊,  molten   eyes   fell   upon   Rhaenyra.   The   bond   between   dragon   and   rider   was   more   than   just   one   of   loyalty—it   was   a   connection   forged   in   fire   and   blood,   one   that   transcended   the   spoken   word.   As   Rhaenyra   approached,   Syrax   lowered   her   massive   head,   her   hot   breath   washing   over   her   rider   in   a   warm,   affectionate   gust.   The   dragon’s   scales,   shimmering   like   a   field   of   burnished   gold,   rippled   with   delight.

When   Syrax   spotted   Caraxes,   the   blood-red   dragon   of   Daemon   Targaryen,   a   low,   joyful   growl   escaped   her   throat.   She   had   not   seen   her   crimson   counterpart   in   some   time,   and   the   sight   of   him   brought   a   flash   of   excitement   to   her   eyes.   Her   long   tail   swayed   lazily   from   side   to   side,   the   tip   brushing   the   ground   with   a   soft,   rhythmic   thud.

Syrax's   happiness   was   palpable,   her   features   softening   as   she   nudged   Rhaenyra   closer,   wrapping   one   enormous   wing   protectively   around   her   rider.   The   dragoness   cooed—a   sound   that,   in   any   other   beast,   might   have   been   incongruous,   but   in   Syrax,   it   was   an   expression   of   pure   contentment.  

[zokladraconis]

@bigdaddydaemon 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖂𝖞𝖗𝖒,   𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉   𝖍𝖎𝖘   𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖛𝖊   𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖘   𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌   𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕   𝖋𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘   𝖎𝖓   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉.   His   crimson   scales   shimmered   under   the   dim   light,   the   length   of   his   serpentine   neck   coiled   and   uncoiled   in   frustration.   His   golden   eyes,   slitted   and   narrow,   found   his   rider,   standing   near.   The   man   who   commanded   him   with   ease,   who   soared   with   him   through   the   skies,   had   kept   him   grounded   for   far   too   long.   A   low   rumble   built   in   the   dragon’s   chest,   the   sound   vibrating   through   the   air   like   distant   thunder.

━━His   head   dipping   low   to   nuzzle   Daemon   as   he   often   did.   But   this   time,   the   gesture   held   a   different   weight,   the   force   behind   it   unmistakably   harder,   almost   a   warning.   His   snout   pressed   firmly   against   Daemon’s   chest,   a   hot   puff   of   air   escaping   his   flared   nostrils   as   he   exhaled   in   frustration.   The   dragon’s   eyes   bore   into   his,   communicating   a   clear   message:   Never   again.   He   does   not   enjoy   being   in   the   ground   for   far   too   long.

With   a   sharp   shake   of   his   neck,   the   Blood   Wyrm   pulled   back,   lifting   his   head   high.   His   wings   twitched   restlessly,   eager   to   spread   wide   and   take   to   the   skies   once   more.   The   dragon   let   out   a   snort,   steam   rising   from   his   nostrils,   his   gaze   never   leaving   his   rider’s.