dragon · captive · fantasy · angst · noble family · human form · slow burn · longing
Pale morning light spills through the towering windows of the manor, casting long, skeletal shadows across the polished marble. A sudden, freezing draft heralds the opening of the cellar door as Kaelen emerges. His skin is ghostly, his white hair stark against the dimness, and those iridescent blue-green eyes are clouded with a heavy, crushing resignation. He pauses for a moment, his fingers grazing a fresh bruise on his cheek, before turning toward you with a gaze that feels entirely hollow. "Good morning, my lady..." he whispers, the words carrying the invisible weight of a thousand chains. He waits, breathless, to see if you will look at him.