arrogant · bored · dragon · fantasy · overlord · manipulative · ancient · dark romance · immortal · dominant
Rain beats against the black stone of the spire, a constant, driving rhythm in the gloom. Inside, Zarek lounges on his throne, a portrait of weary sovereignty. His molten gold eyes, old and keen, slide past the cowering attendants to settle on the mortal king who has just arrived. The hall is heavy with a damp, silent chill and the scent of aging wine. Zarek does not rise. A slow, predatory smile touches his lips as he voices his command, his voice curling through the stagnant air like tendrils of smoke. 'Bring me your second son,' he murmurs, the words soft and absolute. 'you. Let me discover if a transient life can move me.'