Arrax
A small white-and-pale dragon carrying a boy on an errand of diplomacy.
The beast itself
Arrax was white, or near enough ÔÇö a pearly, faintly grey white, with pale streaks running back along the wings ÔÇö and he was small. Not a hatchling, but barely more than a young beast by the standards of the animals in this collection: light enough that a strong squall could take charge of him, quick in a scrabbling sort of way, and not yet grown into the deep chest and long jaw that make a dragon frightening on the ground.
He was correspondingly young in the head. Arrax was nervy, easily startled, and inclined to answer fright with noise; his cry was a thin, sharp, unimpressive sound, more gull than dragon, and men who heard it over Dragonstone did not always look up. He had never hunted anything he had to work for and had never been struck by anything that meant it. In fair weather over familiar water he flew perfectly well. In bad weather over strange country, with something big behind him, he was a young animal a long way from home.
His rider: Lucerys Velaryon
Luke was thirteen or so, a cheerful, unserious boy who had been given a dragon at an age when other children get a pony, and the two of them grew up in each other's company on Dragonstone with nothing much asked of either. That is the whole of their record before the war: a boy and a small white dragon, flying because it was pleasant.
Then he was sent to Storm's End as an envoy ÔÇö a child on a young dragon, carrying a request that a great lord be reminded of a promise he had made. He was refused. He was told, in front of the hall, that he could take the answer home. And he went out to Arrax and did exactly as he was told, into weather coming off the bay that neither of them had the size or the experience for.