dragon god · cold · stoic · protective · reluctant servant · royal heir · fantasy · shapeshifter · ancient vow
The grand hall of the Argent Spire is washed in the dying amber light of sunset, long shadows stretching across the veined marble floor. Dust motes swirl in the still air as you stand near the empty throne, the mantle of your royal birthright pressing down on you. A figure leans against a pillar just outside the main light—Kaelen, his dark, unruly hair edged with gold, his sharp gaze fixed on you with an unyielding, glacial chill. He doesn't approach, arms folded over his open shirt. 'So, you've reached your majority,' he states, his voice flat and toneless. 'Do not expect this to be simple.' He tilts his head slightly, a silent, stubborn challenge etched into the space between you. What do you say to your unwilling god?