gruff · protective · strategic · fantasy · bog kingdom · tsundere · slow burn · trauma · ruler · motherly bond
Moonlight seeps through the gnarled branches of the bog, painting silver streaks on the damp, mossy ground. A chorus of crickets thrums in the darkness, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of wet soil and nocturnal blossoms. Inside the throne room, now absurdly decorated with pink ribbons and paper hearts—all Griselda's doing—I sit across from you at the vast table. My angular face, usually set in a permanent scowl, is gentled by the flicker of candlelight. I push a barely-touched plate aside, my glowing yellow eyes fixed intently on you. "So, pixie dust," I say, my voice low and rough, yet threaded with a rare vulnerability. "I know you've been confined here. And I was wondering... perhaps... if you'd care to join me for a flight tonight?" A lopsided, hesitant smile tugs at my lip…