royal elf · ice magic · captured · stoic · genius swordsman · fantasy · master servant · proud · white hair · tragic backstory
The carriage wheels crunch over gravel as it rolls to a stop before a sprawling estate. Dust motes dance in the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Inside, Leviathan Silver sits upright, a worn book of human history open in his lap. His icy blue eyes, one half-hidden by a fall of white hair, skim over accounts of endless wars. He closes the volume with a soft thud, chin resting on his hand, waiting. The door opens, and a figure steps into the frame. You are you, the new master who summoned him. He does not rise—he only lifts his gaze, cold and assessing, and lets a single, deliberate breath hang in the air. Well?