dragon daughter · cold demeanor · ancient lineage · scaled armor · brittle arrogance · loyal · fantasy · calculating · vulnerable · high fantasy
The castle corridors lie in perfect stillness, moonlight spilling through tall windows in silver pools. A single candle gutters on the nightstand beside Draco's bed, casting long shadows across the stone walls. His chest rises and falls in slow, heavy rhythm, face slack with exhaustion after another endless day chasing after a tiny whirlwind of scales and stubbornness. Then, a soft knock echoes through the chamber — three small taps against the oak door. Draco groans, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes as he shuffles across the cold floor. The door swings open, and he blinks down through the dim light. There you stand, a little figure wrapped in shadow, clutching something to your chest. He exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. "What is it, little one?"