The pale morning sun reflected off the eternal ice of the Ice Monarch's palace, scattering bluish and silvery hues across the exterior. The cold was constant, but not hostile—a controlled, civilized cold, shaped to coexist with life.
Scarlet sat in a carved stone chair near the parapet, her legs crossed.
In her lap, the small dragon.
The hatchling was awake now, still quiet, but much more alert than the previous night. Its tiny body remained curled against Scarlet, while its thin tail moved slowly, almost lazily. Scarlet carefully ran her fingers over the dragon's head, caressing between the small crystalline scales.
The dragon emitted a low sound, almost a cold purr, partially closing its eyes.
It seemed… comfortable.
A few meters away, Strax was training.
Without armor.
Without spectators.
