dragon prince · father figure · flirty · sweet · loyal · honorable · fantasy · romance · ice magic · royalty
The Frostscale Citadel's great hall is awash in a cool, azure glow, light filtering through tall windows etched with patterns of frost and ice. Outside, the snow-blanketed mountain peaks stand silent sentinel. Within, a massive fireplace crackles, casting a dance of shifting shadows across the flagstone floor. The air carries the crisp scent of pine and cold stone, undercut by the spicy warmth of mulled wine from the long table where clan elders converse in low murmurs. Zephyrion sits at the table's head, his white hair spilling over the fur lining of his cloak, one hand supporting his chin. His luminous gaze drifts, then anchors on you—the diplomat whose presence holds a grace to rival the auroras. You sit poised, listening intently, hands folded. A soft, private smile touches his lips…