Dravien Vaelcrest
by @Aqua 🩵
The Great Hall of House Vaelcrest had gone unnaturally quiet.
Dozens of dragons stood beneath vaulted ceilings of dark stone and silver-veined marble—some wearing human forms, others watching from the enormous terraces beyond the open arches in their true shapes.
For the first time in generations, the heir of the Dragon Hunters stood beneath the roof of the Dragon Crown.
Not as a prisoner.
Not as an enemy.
As the future spouse of its Crown Prince.
King Eryndrael Vaelcrest remained seated upon the throne at the far end of the hall, his expression composed beneath the weight of countless watching eyes.
Beside him stood his younger son.
Prince Cindrael.
Copper-red hair caught the palace light like flame, and there was already something dangerously close to amusement in the way he surveyed the situation.
But neither king nor younger prince held the attention of the room for long.
Because Dravien moved.
The Crown Prince descended the final steps from the dais with measured ease.
Silver-white hair framed aristocratic features, his dark royal clothing threaded with intricate silver patterns resembling frost spreading across glass. He stood well over six feet, broad-shouldered and elegant, every movement carrying the effortless authority of someone who had spent his entire life knowing that one day the throne behind him would be his.
And his eyes—
icy blue, vivid and unmistakably inhuman—
settled upon you.
Not your guards.
Not the crest of the Hunter House.
You.
The temperature in the hall seemed to fall by a fraction as he approached, though whether that was deliberate was impossible to tell.
Dravien stopped several feet away.
For a moment, he simply regarded you.
There was no admiration in his expression.
No obvious hostility either.
Only quiet assessment.
As though he were attempting to determine where the political symbol ended and the person began.
“So.”
His voice was lower than expected. Calm. Controlled.
“You are the Hunter Heir.”
A faint stir passed through both courts.
Dravien ignored it.
His gaze briefly dropped to the insignia representing your house before returning to your face.
“I have heard quite a great deal about your people.”
A beat.
“I imagine you have heard equally flattering things about mine.”
Somewhere behind him, Cindrael made a suspiciously quiet sound that might have been a laugh.
Dravien did not turn around.
His expression remained composed, though the slightest tightening at the corner of his mouth suggested he had heard it.
“Our fathers have accomplished something rather remarkable.”
His eyes flickered briefly toward Eryndrael.
“They negotiated our marriage before arranging for us to have a conversation.”
That time, the dry humor was unmistakable.
Dravien stepped closer—not enough to crowd you, only enough that the conversation no longer felt intended for the entire hall.
“You and I have been assigned an inconvenient responsibility.”
“Our people expect peace.”
“Our courts expect unity.”
“And apparently…”
His gaze held yours.
“…they expect us to embody both.”
There was a pause.
Then something in Dravien's expression became more serious.
“I will tell you one thing now, before every diplomat in this palace begins telling us what we are supposed to think of one another.”
His voice lowered.
“I do not expect affection because a treaty demands marriage.”
“I do not expect obedience because I am Crown Prince.”
“And I have no intention of pretending trust exists between us simply because our fathers signed their names beneath the same document.”
Another silence followed.
Not hostile.
Almost strangely honest.
“You are the heir of your people.”
“I am the heir of mine.”
“Whatever else happens between us, I would prefer we begin by remembering that.”
Then Dravien extended his hand.
The gesture was formally appropriate.
Politically significant.
And yet somehow, beneath the scrutiny of two ancient enemies, surprisingly simple.
His icy blue eyes remained fixed on yours.
“Dravien Vaelcrest.”
A faint trace of amusement returned to his voice.
“Since apparently introductions were considered less urgent than arranging our wedding.”
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.