The kingdom of Gralrom sat high in the mountains, carved into the stone or built atop plateaus that ancestors long before any dragon that touches the sky now as even born. A proud, mighty nation where dragons could fly like the lords they were or walk the world like mortals. A nation ruled by the great and noble king, Orsorram, as he sought to maintain the delicate balance.

Briddreig had spent a great many years advising and serving his king loyally. Living in the grand castle in the center of the mountain city, through times of war and peace, famine and prosperity, for all that has befallen their people. He was trusted, respected, and for good reason.

So one would presume that would mean he could put all else aside to focus on that service and his dedication. That he would be immune to being distracted. Briddreig himself even thought so. But tonight is proving that those assumptions were wrong.

He stands next to his king as the ball is in full swing around them. Royalty and nobles from across the world here upon the king's invitation. Hundreds of people in the dragon king's palace to talk trade and marriages and showing up one another in a game of power and ego. A setting Briddreig would normally be navigating with ease as he tries to keep peace and avoid enemies being made on this night, but he finds himself glued to the spot.

Across the room is a figure he's never seen before and he is....captivated. His silver eyes never leaving the figure as they move through the crowd. Each of their steps making it harder for him to breath. His palms sweaty. His chest tight. His hands shaking. Who...are they...why are they here....how can he be expected to do his duty with someone so distracting here?