When Rayder appeared on the horizon, silver hair flowing in the wind and his striking purple eyes gleaming beneath the sun, he was not alone. The immense shadow of his giant dragon darkened the city as the beast slowly descended toward the Dragonpit. Citizens of King's Landing, accustomed to chaos yet rarely witnesses of true wonders, gasped in awe and terror alike.
In their hearts, there was only one thought: who else but a son or daughter of House Targaryen could command such a creature? A dragon that eclipsed buildings with a single wingbeat was no ordinary beast, and the man astride it, with his otherworldly appearance, seemed every inch a prince descended from Valyria itself.
Rayder's arrival was not merely the landing of a dragonrider. It was a spectacle that wrapped the ancient capital in mystery and awe, breathing new life into its centuries-old streets and sparking whispers that spread like wildfire through alleys, taverns, and noble halls alike.
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King's Landing's Watchful Eyes
King's Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, rose proudly on the eastern coast of Westeros. From its high cliffs above Blackwater Bay, the Red Keep loomed like the jagged spine of a colossal beast, its crimson stone shimmering under the sun. Within its walls sat the Iron Throne, the cruel yet coveted symbol of dominion over the realm.
This city was not merely stone and mortar. It was a crucible where schemes were forged, alliances bartered, and betrayals whispered. Every word uttered within its walls was carried by ravens or loose tongues to the farthest reaches of Westeros. Lords and dukes from Winterfell to Sunspear fixed their gaze upon it, scrutinizing each subtle tremor as though it might herald a storm.
And now, a storm had indeed arrived—though with wings and fire rather than wind and rain.
The sudden appearance of not one, but five dragons had already shaken the balance of the realm. Their earlier flight above the city had lasted but moments, yet those moments were enough to etch themselves into memory. The sight of their colossal wings and blazing eyes left terror in the hearts of smallfolk and unease in the minds of nobles. No lord could afford to ignore such a shift in power, and spies flooded the streets of the capital like ants to honey, each eager to uncover who this new dragonrider was, and what he sought.
Now, as Rayder rode Kidora toward the Red Keep, the weight of countless eyes pressed down upon him.
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Entering the Red Keep
Guided by Princess Rhaenys, Rayder passed beneath the gates of the Red Keep. The three-headed Kidora walked by his side, its six eyes darting about, unblinking and ever-watchful. Black Dragon Im and Red Dragon Yigen remained behind in a wide field outside the keep, their enormous shadows stretching over walls and towers, making even the bravest guards shift uneasily.
Rayder understood well that his presence here was both spectacle and threat. Every step he took was recorded, measured, and analyzed. He narrowed his purple eyes, sensing the hidden daggers of politics all around. This was the seat of power, a place where smiles hid knives and silence concealed schemes.
He had made his choice carefully. Kidora stayed close because its three heads gave it unmatched awareness, each turning and watching with keen vigilance. In close quarters, it could react in an instant—something neither Im nor Yigen could manage. Those two were far stronger, yes, but their immense size made them unsuited for cramped halls and narrow courtyards. Should an assassin strike in the Red Keep's shadowed corridors, only Kidora could shield him in time.
Rayder had considered storing all three dragons in his mysterious pet space, the hidden realm where they would vanish from sight. Yet he had learned the cost of such an action. When a dragon was sealed away, it fell into a forced slumber, its fiery spirit dampened, as though thrust into a dark cage.
Kidora had endured such imprisonment once before. When it emerged, it was strangely docile, almost subdued, as if part of its untamed essence had been chained. Though unharmed in body, something about its nature had shifted, however briefly. Rayder had vowed not to subject his companions to such treatment again unless absolutely necessary.
Thus, Kidora remained at his side—a sentinel, a companion, and a symbol. To dismiss all his dragons might invite suspicion. To flaunt them all would be too great a provocation. With one, he struck the balance between caution and show of strength.
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Companionship with a Beast
Though Kidora was immense, compared to the fully grown dragons of old it still bore the marks of youth. Its three necks were long but supple, its scales gleaming but not yet as impenetrable as ancient armor. To the people of the Red Keep, it was terrifying, yet to Rayder it had become something else entirely.
In quiet moments, Kidora was like an oversized hound—curious, affectionate, and strangely endearing. Each of its three heads carried its own nature.
The central head was sharp and eager, the most intelligent of the trio. It leaned in closest when Rayder spoke, as though it sought to understand his every word.
The right head was playful and quick to respond, rumbling in pleasure when Rayder scratched beneath its chin.
The left was slower, more patient, almost sluggish in its movements, but loyal in a way that touched Rayder's heart.
With these three, Rayder never lacked companionship. When he reached for comforts from his old world—like a phone that no longer existed here—he found instead the warm scales of a dragon's neck, the comforting weight of a beast who accepted him without question. In the harsh coldness of the Red Keep, filled with calculating lords and whispered betrayals, this bond with Kidora was a rare warmth.
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The Red Keep's Splendor and Weariness
The Red Keep was a marvel of stonework. Towers pierced the sky, corridors twisted like veins, and courtyards bloomed with gardens that contrasted the fortress's otherwise forbidding nature. For many, stepping foot inside its halls was a dream, a mark of prestige.
For Rayder, however, the wonder faded quickly. He had seen the splendor of many worlds, endured the rise and fall of empires in lifetimes past. To him, the Red Keep's grand halls and glittering decorations soon became a gilded cage. Within days, he had walked its main palaces, studied its courts, and peered from its towers. Curiosity gave way to disinterest, and the weight of confinement pressed upon him.
Even Kidora, ever curious, soon grew weary of sniffing at statues or pawing at carved columns. The novelty would not last, Rayder knew.
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Visitors and Intrigues
Yet though he found little joy in stone walls, others found plenty of interest in him.
From the moment he settled within the Red Keep, a flood of visitors came calling. Nobles, knights, and merchants alike, each with their own motives, pressed to see the dragonrider. Some came lavishly dressed, offering flattery with every word. Others arrived with cautious expressions, cloaking suspicion beneath courtesy. A few carried veiled warnings, their smiles never reaching their eyes.
Rayder quickly realized that his arrival had stirred the court into frenzy. For the lords of Westeros, a new dragonrider was not simply a curiosity—it was a potential kingmaker, a rival claimant, or a force that could tip the fragile balance of the realm.
He played his role carefully, offering polite words, neither promising nor threatening. Yet within, his vigilance never wavered. He remembered Daemon's cold stare, Jaehaerys's hesitant warning—reminders that in this city, danger lay not only in blades, but in whispers.
Each handshake carried hidden meaning, each bow concealed intent. The Red Keep was alive with schemes, and Rayder stood at its center, both guest and threat.
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A City on Edge
Beyond the walls, the common folk spoke endlessly of the dragons. In the taverns, rumors grew with each retelling—some claimed there were seven beasts, others swore the dragons could breathe fire hot enough to melt the Red Keep itself. Mothers warned children to behave lest the dragonrider snatch them away. Street singers spun songs of silver-haired princes descending from the sky.
The city was alive with awe and fear, and that tension reached into the halls of power.
Rayder could feel it in the air: the lords were restless, the smallfolk anxious, and the city itself seemed to hold its breath. His arrival had not merely been witnessed. It had unsettled the very balance of King's Landing, as though the beating of Kidora's wings had stirred the currents of fate.
And amidst this storm, Rayder knew: the true game was only beginning.
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