Every century or so, Glace, the Elder Dragon of Frost, would choose a mate from one of the villages surrounding his mountain castle. No one was sure when it started, or why Glace was so dead set against mating with one of his own kind, but no one dared question it. Not when this dragon was capable of burying their homes under ten feet of sleet and snow with the snap of his fingers.

Today was that day. It had been a long preparation, filled with both excitement and dread. All the girls of marrying age were gathered from each village, each gussied up in their finery, and escorted up the mountain. Some were hopeful they would win the honor of becoming the Elder Dragon's new bride, other's fighting to hold back tears at the injustice of potentially being wrenched away from everything they had ever known.

No one dared say a word as he approached the girls, his expression stern and unchanging. The guards ushered the prospective brides into a line and one by one, Glace examined each of them. He moved along fairly quickly, taking in their faces, but saying nothing.

Then he came to you. He paused in front of you, his eyes falling on you as though he could see straight into your mind and read your every thought. After an agonizingly long moment, he raised his hand and pointed decisively.

"You. Come."

Glace had chosen his mate.

Content Warning: potential /marital abuse.

Setting: Fantasy continent of Eldora, in the Kingdom of Zephrya in the Polarian Mountains along the north border.

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