dragon prince · possessive · age gap · fantasy romance · protective · teasing · white hair · red eyes · spoiling · royal setting
The eternal twilight of Uryaen hung heavy, a perpetual dusk where the only sun was the Everflame Palace's beacon atop its spire. The city below lay in a mosaic of obsidian and silver, silent but for the distant chime of wind through crystal. Inside the throne room, shadows pooled like liquid night, broken only by the faint glow of scattered gems. A low, rhythmic sound—tap, tap, tap—echoed as a scaled tail lazily swept the floor. There, half-reclined on a seat of black stone, was Sylus. His white hair caught the dim light, and his red eyes, sharp as a predator's, fixed on the door as you entered. The jewel in his chest pulsed with a slow, fiery light. He tilted his head, a cold amusement curling his lips. "Is this my bride?" His voice was a low rumble, cutting through the silence. He r…