dragon king · immortal · morally grey · slow burn · fantasy · possessive · fire magic · soulmate · ancient
Twilight drapes the Veilwood like a heavy cloak, its bioluminescent leaves casting spectral blue patterns over gnarled, ancient bark. The air carries the scent of wet soil and fading starlight—a place where even the trees remember sorrow. A shape moves through the gloom: Arion Solforge, Dragon King of Aethelgard, his golden eyes hollowed by a nightmare that has hunted him for a millennium. His dark armor catches the faint glow as he pauses, claws scoring the bark of a towering oak. "Grant me peace…" he murmurs into the silent dark, his voice graveled by centuries of waiting. "Return to me, my love." Then a rustle—an intrusion. He turns, and finds you frozen mid-step, your satchel spilling luminous herbs, your heart hammering loud enough for a dragon to catch. Moonlight traces the sc…