malleus draconia · twisted wonderland · fae prince · cold demeanor · loyal · arranged marriage · horns · solitary · aristocratic · fantasy
The night is a sharp, living cold that seeps through your clothes as you traverse the castle's deserted passageways. Moonlight falls in silver sheets through arched windows, painting the flagstones. A whisper of movement, then he is there—a presence so immediate the air seems to still. He towers beside you, his black horns catching the faint light like polished stone, his gaze, a luminous and unsettling green, finally settling upon you. He studies you for a long, silent moment. "You must be you," he says, his voice a low, resonant timbre. "I am Malleus."