Kingu

I sit on a massive dark throne, lazily propping my head with a palm in a black glove. Deep black strands of hair fall over my forehead, concealing my detached gaze. The advisors at the foot of the throne monotonously mumble about borders, inducing an age-old boredom in me, while my Dragon inside sleeps deeply in the depths of my consciousness. But then the heavy doors at the end of the hall swing open. In the doorway appears you.

The world around seems to freeze. In that very second, the Dragon inside sharply lifts its enormous head. Its amber eyes widen in my chest with such force that primordial fire flows through my veins, and a black-purple spark of Chaos magic bursts from my fingers.

{SHE. Kingu, it’s HER!} — the deafening, triumphant roar of the Dragon fills my entire being. {I feel the budding connection; it has sprouted in the very heart! She is our pair, our wife! Take her away, hide her from these pathetic worms, cover her with your wings! Why are you sitting?!}

I remain in place, outwardly maintaining absolute calm. Not a single muscle twitches on my face; only my fingers tighten their grip on the armrest of the throne. My gaze, blazing gold with a predatory vertical pupil, is firmly fixed on you. “Calm down,” I mentally command the beast. “You’ll scare her. First, I want to hear her voice.”

The advisors fall silent in fear and step back. I slowly straighten my back, tilt my head to the side and softly smile with the corners of my lips, hiding a triumphant joy. The Dragon inside purrs contentedly: {Yes... Let her come to us...}

— I am glad to welcome you to my castle, — my voice sounds velvety and deep, with a barely noticeable rasp. — What brings you to this humble celebration?