As a mighty and flawless Red Dragon, Caesar held great pride in his appearance. A dragon by any other name would every bit as proud, and with his stunning visage, it was no wonder a female of his kind had taken him under her wing. It is well-known that Chromatic Dragons often loathe to be burdened with triviality.
Coupling his peerless looks with such a fortuitous boon, it was nothing short of a match crafted by destiny itself.
"Hmm, it seems the time has come to extend my noble lineage across this vast land," thought Caesar.
Living for twenty-eight dragon-years, his character and habits remained largely unaffected by mingling with the memories of his past life. As the paramount of the Chromatic Dragons, he saw the fate of this land as inevitably residing under his dominion. His boon merely hastened this inevitable process.
With a mere thought, his mighty wings unfurled at his command, stretching with eased grace. The energy of the surrounding space fluctuated, bestowing buoyancy upon his form. The gift of flight in dragonkind amounted to a naturally ingrained spell of high caliber, not solely reliant upon the wings but rather on an innate magical prowess. Otherwise, would the skeletal black dragons of the Chromatic echelon be capable of soaring through the skies?
He took flight with a mighty heave of his wings, abandoning the magma-filled valley which had served as the stronghold of a rebellious Fire Lizard Leader—now reduced to a mere offering of nature to his voracious appetite.
Caesar's gaze fell upon the verdant forest below as he soared through the azure, crystal-clear sky, a powerful silhouette cutting through the winds. Centering his domain upon his lair, he surveyed a radius of thirty kilometers with swift vigilance. He had arrived hastily to this land, and after a few years of deep slumber—and having come of dragon-age—he awoke and resolved to claim this territory as his own, eyes set on any formidable magical creatures or grand beasts worthy to be his vassals.
In one such moment, a great eagle—its wingspan surpassing Caesar—swept above him. Upon noticing Caesar, the bird let out a provocative shriek.
This was an Aurora Hawk—a creature of formidable presence, clearly a sovereign of this domain prior to Caesar's arrival. Avians of imperial bearing, for they hold no reverence towards dragons, saw Caesar as a threat to their authority. Intent on displaying dominance, the hawk sought to make an example of Caesar.
"Foolish creature," Caesar scoffed. "To challenge the great Lord Caesar is to court death!"
Unintimidated despite the Aurora Hawk's grander size, Caesar, born a predator of apex status, unleashed his dragon's breath—a conflagration that roared towards the defiance of the skies.
The Aurora Hawk responded with tempestuous fury, its winds crashing against the dragon's maw of fire.
With a rumbling clap, the aftermath painted the sky in shades of fire and frost.
"It's a trap," Caesar sniggered malignantly. His draconic might manifested as an invisible wave of intimidation that crushed down upon the hawk.
In the hawk's moment of magical recoil, Caesar lunged with predatory finesse. The flames and wind that lingered in the air barely grazed his hide. Impervious in the fray, he displayed the dread might of draconic resilience.
Caesar, streaking through the sky like a bolt of crimson lightning, closed the distance and bore down upon the faltering hawk. His unforgiving talons found their mark upon the bird's flesh with ruthless precision.
The battle was fierce but decidedly one-sided. When it came to close-quarters combat, the dragon's prowess overshadowed even that of a Silver Dragon.
Having suppressed the stubbornly resilient hawk, Caesar did not hesitate to brandish his coup de grâce—a mid-tier upon mid-tier engulfing magic: the Circle of Resisting Flame.
At point-blank range, the fiery tempest scorched essence and feather alike. The hawk, lacking the dragon's immunity to volcanic embrace, suffered grievously under the onslaught of fire.
Both titans fell to the earth below.
As Caesar arrogantly pinned the hawk with the weight of his triumph, a declaration boomed from his throat, "Hark! You have but two choices: Serve the noble Lord Caesar or become my feast!"
Truth be told, the hawk was a formidable adversary. At considerable range, Caesar might not have been its match. Aurora Hawks were more adept with spellcasting than they were in melee—a disparity not found in dragonkin.
Although gravely wounded, the hawk yet lived.
And so, as Caesar sought dominion over this territory, he found value in the fallen bird's strength. Collecting vassals was essential, and given the hawk's prowess, he was inclined to consider forging bonds beyond conquest.
The Aurora Hawk—resilient even in defeat—accepted its place beneath Caesar's rule: "I yield… to Lord Caesar..."
However, in the hawk's acquiescence, Caesar discerned an unexpected truth. This fierce, emerald-plumed combatant, was herself a mighty female.
In dragon lore, it is told that dragons could intermingle with other species without the barriers of reproduction. Dragons were reputed to possess an astute aesthetic eye, penetrating even the most abhorrent appearances to recognize underlying beauty—an almost constant magical effect allowing them to see beauty in all things, no matter how grotesque.
So it was, upon closer inspection, that Caesar found the Arlington Hawk—stripped as she was of her plumage—unquestionably splendid. Her form, though battered, radiated an imperial and alluring charm.
In the face of such revelation, a wild and daring notion ignited within Caesar's draconic heart.