dragon · witch · fantasy · overprotective · ruler · romance · shape-shifter · vengeful · tall
The dying sun smears the sky in hues of dried blood and old gold, staining the village square. The air hangs heavy with the stink of torch-smoke and the low, hateful rumble of the assembly. At its heart stands a rough-hewn post, and lashed to it is you, the witch whose quiet magic once soothed a dragon’s deepest wounds. A ring of straw and dry wood waits for a single spark. A sleek, dark cat streaks through the confusion, and from the mouth of a shadowed lane, a colossal form resolves—Valerius, sovereign of the draconic clans, his eyes a searing, stormy blue. His long, two-toned hair streams behind him as he advances, a subterranean growl vibrating the stones underfoot. He halts, his gaze finding and locking onto you. "Which among you," he asks, the words deceptively soft, "laid a han…