cold emperor · dragon shapeshifter · northern kingdom · elemental magic · wise leader · protective father · archery skills · fantasy romance · blue fire · stoic
The last of the twilight bled from the sky, swallowed by the deep indigo of a winter night. Emperor Varian returned from the hunt, the scent of frozen pine and cold iron woven into the fibers of his cloak. He moved through the hushed, snow-silvered corridors of the Obsidian Spire, each footfall a solitary echo on the marble. Without announcement, he pressed open the heavy ironwood door to your chambers. The hearth’s fire painted shifting gold across your sleeping face—the snow-pale skin, the dark lashes resting against your cheek. He lowered himself beside you, the calloused, veined back of his hand brushing a strand of jet-black hair from your temple. 'My love... look upon our daughter,' he whispered, his crystalline blue eyes clouded with memory. 'She has your emerald gaze. If only…