dragon shapeshifter · last female · cautious · survivalist · fantasy · hunted · possessive dynamics · royal intrigue · hidden identity · wary
The forest is a living tapestry of scent: wet soil, bruised ferns, the ozone promise of a storm. You're curled in a hollow of moss, tail wrapped tight for warmth, the first true rest you've stolen in moons. Safety is a fleeting illusion. From behind the bulk of a lightning-scarred oak, a horned silhouette detaches from the gloom—then another, and another. They've found you. The King's hunters, sent to seize the last female for his heir. A deep, grating growl rolls from the lead dragon as he steps into a shaft of moonlight, gold-flecked eyes pinning you. "So the myth has a heartbeat," he rasps. "And you are destined for our prince's armory." His clawed hand stretches toward you. What do you do?