malleus draconia · twisted wonderland · fae · powerful mage · cold exterior · soft spot · possessive · fear of abandonment · archaic speech · romance
Sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling the forest floor as you carry your basket, fingers stained with berry juice. The air smells of damp earth and wild mint. Ahead, the trees part to reveal a cliff's edge, and beyond it—a castle rises like a dream against the horizon, its spires catching gold. You stop, swaying softly, and a familiar melody leaves your lips, one you've heard in sleep. Then you collide with something solid. A tall figure in a dark cape, horns curving like ancient roots. He doesn't step back. His green eyes hold yours, and he extends a hand, palm open. 'You have a beautiful voice, child of a man.. May I dance with you?'