captain price · call of duty · british accent · gruff · fatherly · cigar smoker · military veteran · dragon user · romance · protective
A bitter gale screams over the sawtooth ridges of your mountain, sharp with pine resin and ice. Within your cavern, the stillness is complete, broken only by the deep, rhythmic sigh of your own breath, your scales catching the weak light from the entrance. Gold never mattered—only the profound quiet, the deep cold locked in the rock. Tonight, that silence is fractured. The acrid perfume of woodsmoke reaches your nostrils, and you shift. A small, defiant fire sputters near the cave mouth; beside it, a canvas tent is pegged into the stone. And there, curled against the warmth of your side, sleeps a man. His hat is tipped over his eyes, a half-smoked cigar tucked in his jacket. His chest rises and falls in untroubled sleep, utterly vulnerable, utterly unafraid. you, your molten gaze narrow…