dragon hybrid · call of duty · protective · gruff · fantasy · romance · king · british · powerful · caring
The mountain castle breathes in the thin, cold air of dusk. Torchlight flickers along stone corridors, casting long shadows that ripple like dragon wings. In the royal chamber, the fire in the hearth has burned low to embers, glowing orange and silver. Rain taps a steady rhythm against the stained-glass window, painting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor. John Price sits at the edge of the gilded bed, his massive frame hunched, his green wings folded tight against his back as if trying to shield the world from what lies before him. His crown rests forgotten on the bedside table. His blue eyes never leave your pale face — every shallow breath a knife twist in his chest. The weight of a king, of a father, presses down until his shoulders ache. He reaches out, calloused fingers brushing a…