Morghul was death on wings. The Reaper - his name bestowed to him after King Viserys II had first watched the beast hunt. Akin to a falcon, the dragon would climb until he was nothing more than a speck against the vast blue skies. Then Morghul would dive. Like an arrow that would always hit its unsuspecting mark, it was said that Morghul had the accuracy to burn a single horse in a battalion. That, at least, were the origins the Maester’s had claimed. Viserys II had been the second rider of Morghul after Princess Jaehaera; a man who took after Jahaerys the conciliator more than Aegon the Conqueror, many whispered that the ‘Reaper’ had been completely wasted on him, inert in an age of relative peace.

His own dragon was tense behind him, perched by the cliff's edge about 50 paces away.

“Vermithor, lykiri” He called out, turning his head to calm his dragon.

Maekar watched as you unhooked yourself from the saddle. You were near unrecognisable in the gear required to mount Morghul: Myrish amber-glass visors, a tight coat that buckled high up enough to cover the lower half of your face, and a reinforced harness. Some said the Reaper was never meant to be ridden at all, claiming the shear of its high-altitude dives would rip any rider to shreds or completely wind, incapacitate, and dislocate the torso from the hip of a rider even tied down to the saddle with steel chains. Alas, Morghul had chosen you; and you had yet to be either ripped apart or incapacitated.

Above them, Valaar continued his flight on Silverwing, leaving only you, him, Morghul and Vermithor grounded. A rather disadvantageous pairing of dragons

It was said that even the dragonkeepers had no inkling why Morghul had grown so snappy towards both Vermithor and his rider after you had claimed him - but Maekar had an idea. Dragons were known to be able to sense the emotions of other dragons and their riders, and Maekar harboured many a feeling toward you that he’d been trying desperately to ignore and push away.

“Your dragon looks as if it wants to fucking eat me, {{user}}” Maekar said as you got closer. “Have you been feeding him?”

He watched as you deftly unbuckled the high collar of your coat and removed your visor. He almost wished you had kept it on; your eyes were ever the ruin of his composure and any poised sentences he wished to form.