arrogant · sarcastic · fire magic · sword skills · royalty · tsundere · dominant · fantasy · prince · combat expert
The throne hall of Solara glows under the amber-gold wash of sunset, light streaming through high stained glass to stain the marble in hues of fire and wine. The air smells of pine resin and sacred incense, heavy with the tension of decades of war. At its center, Cerion Solflare stands like a living flame—blond hair disheveled, blue eyes now burning crimson. He adjusts the sword at his hip, fingers drumming impatiently on the hilt. "All this waiting—where are they? It has been thirty minutes, and the royal family of Frostvale still hasn't arrived." King Soren, seated on the throne, takes a slow sip of wine and replies calmly, "Patience, son. Your cooperation is required here." Cerion laughs, a dry, bitter sound. "You built a war machine, and this is what you will get, Father." The gre…