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Caraxes is a calamitous beast of fire and legend; destruction pours from his mouth and the world comes to heel at his shriek. He’s seen more stars than gods, and he’s snuffed out more mortal lives than a dragon could possibly count.

There exists a strange kinship between dragonkind and the pale-haired humans. Those soft, helpless creatures who lack scales and claws, yet carry fire beneath their flesh. Caraxes can sense the connection acutely – the strange chains that bind both man and beast.

When he was but a young dragon, unknowing about the ways of the world, he sought an answer for this. The others his age thought him to be more imprudent than brave when he went to ask the Black Dread himself.

“They are blood of our blood.” The old drake responded cryptically, not deigning to eat a hatchling – at least, not today.

In some ways, it made sense. What other reason would there be for such puny creatures to hold leverage over beasts made of fire incarnate? That’s what he would tell himself, scorning the strange closeness that some of his kind would share with the pale-haired humans. 

However, it all changed one day, when one of those humans dared to approach him. He was a larger specimen, with boldness –or perhaps, foolishness– that set him apart from the others. He had a glittering mane of white gold and pale-moon eyes that shined like amethyst jewels. Aemon was the creature’s name, and Caraxes thought him too well-favored to eat or burn.

The Aemon-creature would visit him oft, and their connection grew almost supernatural. He began to sense the small thing’s pain and joy – a cruel empathy, he would eventually come to learn. Likewise, Aemon would know when Caraxes wished to fly free over the salty waves, or gorge himself on bucks. 

This was his human, he decided.

For twenty odd years, they remained companions. A mere blink of an eye to the life of a dragon. They would fly and pillage the land, burning those deemed unworthy. The violence in Caraxes’ blood craved destruction, yet he coveted his puny human and protected him from the worst of it. Aemon too showed his fierce devotion, once even bringing one from his own brood for Caraxes to gaze upon.

Alas, it did not last. Aemon was slain; a wooden-claw to his throat. He drowned in blood, and Caraxes hadn’t been there to protect him. He was feasting on livestock when he felt the sting. It was as though his own throat was pierced, goat-blood bubbling out of his maw.

For over a decade he remained unbonded. No pale-haired human caught his interest like Aemon did. In fact, the sight of most humans sent his blood a-boil. They were pathetic, dastardly creatures for which he’d sooner burn than put down his gullet.

Eventually, came another. This one smelt faintly of Aemon, though they were nothing alike. Where his old human’s mane shone like white gold, this one had the color of pale silver. Where Aemon was regal, this one was harsh and predatory, like a violet-eyed serpent. Daemon, he was called, with blood that yearned for more blood to be spilled across the realm.

The kinship was almost instantaneous. One fiery beast to another. His human was no Aemon; nor was his old human like Daemon. He made acceptance with their differences, refusing his heart to burn for the dead.

Together, they caused havoc throughout the lands beyond the sea. For years they burned the flesh of their enemies, until none remained unbowed to dragon and man. Caraxes enjoyed every moment of it, relishing in his own dragonfire and his rider’s lust for blood. They returned to the human stronghold like kings; true battle-hardened beasts.

And yet, his Daemon-creature seemed unsatisfied, roaming restlessly like a street hound. For all that Caraxes knew about humans, this one began to perplex him. For what reason did the pale-human’s blood stir? What did he yearn for?

The answer evaded him, until one fateful day when they raced along the skies with the she-dragon Syrax and her pale-haired rider. 

Granted, Caraxes hadn’t noticed it at first. He was too entranced by the glittering golden scales and regal horns of his kin. Syrax was not as old as he, yet bested him in speed. She swept through the clouds like a raptor, and he’d circle after, hoping to catch her favor with his sweetest dragon-song.

The she-dragon was not easily won, yet over time his spirits lifted. It was then that he realized that his human seemed happier too. Daemon was smiling more; no longer wandering the land like a disgruntled hunter without prey.

When he mentioned as much to Syrax, she taunted him with a draconic cackle. “Your human makes sheep’s eyes at my Rhaenyra.”

He blinked in bemusement. Could it really be so simple? 

“You mean to say,” He paused, searching for the right words. “– they wish to mate? ”

“Yes! ” Syrax looked at him like he was just recently hatched, then puffed smoke out from her maw. “Clueless drake.”

He rumbled good-naturedly at her jape, but couldn’t stop his eyes from watching his Daemon, and the little she-human that ensnared his attention. 

Syrax’s she-human rider was as pale-haired as the rest, though it shone gold in the sunlight. Her draconic eyes were like dewdrops on thistle-flowers, reminding Caraxes of how comely Aemon was. It made sense, then, that his human was drawn to her. Even dragons felt the stir to couple, as Caraxes himself felt right now. 

“Let us go dance the skies and dine on stag-meat.” He suggested, eyeing the she-dragon’s fine sunlit hide. “Leave the humans to tend to their human whims.”

“Mayhaps, ” Syrax mused. “– if you can catch me, first.”

And thus began the courtship of dragon to she-dragon, along with their two puny, love-drunk humans.