In the Northern Realm, atop a towering, snow-capped peak, Thranduil descended from the heavens, landing with Jamal outside a colossal white dragon castle.
The blizzards of the Northern Realm never ceased.
Thranduil, in his white dragon form, was the first to fold his wings, landing on the stone courtyard outside the castle's main gate.
“Your Highness Thranduil, let us go meet the Dragon King first,” Jamal said to Thranduil.
“Let's go.” Thranduil took a step forward, walking toward the inside of the castle.
Jamal followed half a step behind him. He was slightly smaller than Thranduil, and his dark gray scales looked exceptionally dull against the snowy light of the Northern Realm. He said nothing, quietly trailing behind.
The two guards bowed their heads in unison. “Your Highness.”
The castle gates slowly ground open before them, the heavy stone doors emitting a low rumble as they receded inward.
The corridor inside was much warmer than the outside. Crystals of various sizes were embedded in the walls on both sides, and ice crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling stretched all the way into the depths of the hallway.
Thranduil walked down the center of the corridor without pausing. Occasionally, attendants and white dragon guards passed by, all of them stopping to bow their heads in respect.
“Where is Father?”
A white dragon attendant quickly replied, “His Majesty is in the Frosttop Hall.”
Thranduil did not stop, his tail-tip flicking slightly. “Understood.”
The Frosttop Hall was located on the topmost floor of the castle. Thranduil traversed the corridor and climbed three flights of winding stone stairs, finally stopping before a massive door made of ice crystals.
Thranduil halted before the door. Instead of pushing it open directly, he stood tall and bowed his head slightly.
“Great White Dragon Holy King, your eldest son, Thranduil, requests an audience!”
The doors of the Frosttop Hall slowly opened inward, revealing a vast floor and an incredibly high vaulted ceiling. Countless pillars formed from condensed ice crystals rose from the floor to the roof, turning the entire hall into a white forest.
At the far end of the hall, a colossal dragon lay on his side atop a high dais carved from a single block of ice rock.
He was more than twice the size of Thranduil. His scales were as pure white as snow, with a faint halo of light shimmering at their edges, making him blend almost seamlessly with the icy wall behind him.
His eyes were closed, and it was impossible to tell whether he was in a deep slumber or merely resting.
Thranduil stepped into the hall, stopping about twenty paces from the dais, and bowed his head.
“Father.”
Jamal stood behind him, also bowing his head. His scales pressed tight against his body, and he remained silent.
The white dragon on the dais did not respond immediately. He remained lying on his side, not even opening his eyes, with only the very tip of his tail twitching ever so slowly.
Only after a long while did a deep, ancient voice echo from the dais.
“...Thranduil.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You have returned from the south.”
“Yes, Father.”
“How did your trip to the south go? What did you achieve?” The White Dragon King half-opened his eyes. A deep blue, eerie light shone from them, appearing bright and perilous in the dim hall.
“With great effort, I managed to find a trace of the branch lineage, but I arrived too late. Unfortunately, I was a step behind. That group of young dragons was attacked by angels, and now...”
“Angels attacked the young dragons?”
“Yes, Father,” Thranduil replied, keeping his head lowered and his voice steady.
“What was the name of my child among those young dragons... Isabella—was that it?”
“...Yes, Father. The young dragon is named Isabella.”
The White Dragon King on the dais finally opened his eyes fully. Those deep blue, vertical pupils resembled a deep pool frozen for thousands of years, devoid of any ripples, yet they caused the temperature of the entire hall to plummet.
“Do you have any news of her this time?”
“...No, Father. Her whereabouts are unknown.”
“Thranduil, you have been running around the south for so long, and you only bring back a few words?”
Thranduil lowered his head, his posture remaining respectful. “The situation in the south is complex, and the forces of the angels have already penetrated underground. I need more time.”
“Time?” The White Dragon King lifted his head slightly, his deep blue vertical pupils finally focusing entirely on him. “I do not lack time. But you should know that the winters in the Northern Realm are growing longer and longer.”
Thranduil fell silent for a moment. “...Yes.”
The White Dragon King did not press further. He closed his eyes once more, slowly resting his head back onto his front claws, returning to silence like a massive white mountain.
“You may leave.”
“Yes, Father.”
He stood outside the doors, his deep blue vertical pupils narrowing slightly as his tail leisurely tapped the ground twice.
Jamal stood behind him with his head lowered, only looking up after confirming that the doors were completely shut.
“...Your Highness, His Majesty the Dragon King's attitude seems even more... urgent than last time.”
“With more and more battles in the Northern Realm, his attitude is not surprising.” Thranduil raised his dragon head and looked at Jamal. “My step... no, please visit my mother on my behalf.”
Jamal was startled for a moment, then quickly lowered his head. “...Yes, Your Highness. I shall go at once.”
“Yes.”
Thranduil slowly turned around, retracing his steps down the corridor before stopping in front of a massive, floor-to-ceiling ice window.
Outside the window, the blizzards of the Northern Realm raged endlessly. Beneath the gray-white sky, the continuous mountain peaks resembled sleeping giant beasts, crouching between heaven and earth.
It had been a very long time since he had seen real sunlight.
His mother... He recalled many years ago—so long ago that he could not even remember the exact year—how his mother had also stood in front of a window like this. In the south, the sunlight had been so bright.
That was Thranduil's real mother, not the stepmother who sat in the royal palace!
How strange. The dragon clan was clearly the race with the weakest familial bonds, yet why... why was he always so unwilling to forget?
Thranduil stood before the ice window, his vertical pupils reflecting his own blurry image. It had been a long time since he had stood so quietly, thinking of nothing, doing nothing.
Simply standing here, gazing out at the vast, white void...
In the underground cave, Leopold had already been in a slumber for three days. Isabella squatted on a nearby chair, her chin resting on her knees, staring at Leopold's face.
He looked very peaceful when he slept. He wasn't furrowing his brow or clenching his teeth; his breathing was even, and his features were relaxed. Perhaps this was Leopold's true self.
She had counted his breaths, and she had counted his eyelashes, only to forget halfway through and have to start over, ultimately remembering nothing.
Isabella lowered her eyes.
She remembered that morning at the underground lake, when Leopold had awkwardly asked her out. He had stood by the lake, trying to explain that he hadn't meant to steal her thunder—his words had been a jumbled, incoherent mess, and in the end, he had simply given up.
Worst of all... she had actually said such embarrassing things to that blockhead, though he had also held her tightly in his arms after hearing them...
Isabella buried her chin a little deeper into her knees.
“Mmh... when are you going to wake up, Leo?”
“...Last time, you did the same, quietly sitting by my side and waiting for me to wake up.” She tilted her face up slightly and smiled, reaching out to gently brush Leopold's cheek with her fingertips. “Now, it's my turn to wait for you.”
“Mnh...” Leopold furrowed his brow. Half-asleep, he raised his hand and grabbed Isabella's hand, which was resting on his face.
“Huh?!”
Startled, Isabella tried to pull her hand back in a panic, but he held onto it firmly, refusing to let go.
“L-Leo?” Isabella lowered her head, her ears turning completely red. She felt her cheeks burning intensely.
Without opening his eyes, Leopold's lips parted as he murmured incoherently, “...Don't go.”
She looked up, parting her lips to speak, only to close them again. Her thoughts were completely jumbled—was he awake? Or was he just talking in his sleep?
She lowered her head again, the blush spreading all the way down to her neck.
“Leo... S-should I get you a glass of water?” Isabella lifted her head slightly, asking tentatively.
Leopold did not respond. Squatting on the chair, she maintained that awkward, twisted posture... After a long while, she finally covered her face with her other hand.
“...Leopold, you idiot.”
Rate on N.U.
