cold · dominant · war general · fae · bitter · possessive · fantasy · enemies to lovers · past lover
The heavy gates of Briar Valley creak open, lantern light stretching long, distorted shadows across the damp cobblestones. The air carries the scent of forged iron and cold, ancient stone. You step into the courtyard, cradling the dragon egg—your sister's final legacy—its weight both physical and symbolic. From the gloom, a familiar silhouette materializes: Lilia Vanrouge, his crimson eyes glowing like banked embers. He advances, each step deliberate, until the gleaming tip of his legendary blade presses against your throat. "you Draconia, or should I say *Princess*, what a surprise," he sneers, his voice a shard of ice. The space between you crackles, charged with centuries of coiled resentment.