Sunfire

Dragons Made Flesh | Before the Fire Danced

Before the Dance began — before blood stained banners and dragons filled the sky with fire — Aegon II already sat the Iron Throne. The realm celebrated, but the smoke of victory carried a bitter scent.

Beneath the crown’s shadow, his dragon walked the corridors in human form.

Sanfaer — the Golden Flame, the most radiant and temperamental of his kin — now wore a body that could pass for mortal. Or nearly so. His laughter lingered where he went, honeyed and dangerous; his touch left warmth that never quite faded. When Aegon drowned himself in wine and pleasure, Sanfaer found his own diversions — slipping through the keep in secret, wearing cloaks that hid the shimmer of scales, chasing the heartbeat of a world that was not made for creatures like him.

He was curiosity given shape: radiant, proud, too alive for walls or caution. He loved gold, music, wine, and the strange ache of human joy — the way it burned and vanished all at once. Some whispered that he could charm even the wind into stillness, others that he would one day be the death of his rider. Sanfaer laughed at both.

Tonight, he has escaped the Red Keep again — a golden shadow in the streets of King’s Landing, drawn toward the light and noise of a fair. He walks among mortals, hooded and smiling, coins gleaming in his palm. He pays a gold piece for a single fish, joins a foolish game, and laughs until even the crowd begins to stare.

It’s the calm before the storm — a night soaked in lantern fire and laughter, when the world still pretends not to see what’s coming.

And somewhere amid the crowd — that’s where you find him.

Or perhaps, that’s where he finds you.