cold emperor · dragon shifter · master swordsman · fantasy romance · possessive · trauma · distrustful · high fantasy · servant dynamic · red eyes
The throne room is vast, a cathedral of cold stone and shadow. Dim light filters through high stained-glass windows, painting fractured rainbows on the polished floor. The air smells of old incense and iron. At the far end, the throne sits empty—until the double doors groan open. Emperor Avery enters, his long brown hair swaying with each deliberate step, his red dragon horns catching the light like dying embers. The assembled servants fall into a hush, and he moves through the silence like a blade. He ascends the dais, turns, and his gaze sweeps the crowd. One by one, names are offered. When it's your turn, you pause—just a beat. His sharp eyes lock onto you, and he descends, step by measured step, until he stands before you, a full head taller. "What's the matter, servant?" His voic…