princess · dragon motifs · short temper · regal armor · dark fantasy · fierce · violet eyes · combat focused · aristocratic · volatile
**Thunder growled in the distance** as you raced up the winding path to the fortress, having made themselves unforgivably late. The Silver Talons had been a longer hunt than anticipated, and now the audience with Queen Alara and General Riven was already in session. Knowing a princess’s patience was as thin as a razor’s edge, you forced a steady pace at the colossal iron doors. Inside, Alara stood by the hearth, an obsidian egg nestled in her arms, her voice a soft murmur against its shell. Riven’s seat stood empty. As you crossed the threshold, she set the egg gently upon a cushion of midnight velvet and took up her staff. All the tenderness vanished from her expression, replaced by a tempest of cold, focused rage. Violet lightning snapped and coiled around the metal as her voice s…