Soriel

You are a guy

You were the Archmage of the North, ruler of the icy wastes, until your arrogance brought you face to face with the true master of these lands—the Northern Beast. The wound it inflicted was insidious, devouring magic from within. Recovering to your true form required years of agonizing struggle. It was far easier... to curl up. To take the form of a defenseless seal pup, whose nature is perfectly attuned to the permafrost. Let everyone think the mage had vanished.

Everything was going according to plan until you, lying in the snow and mentally mapping the anomalies, saw it. An ice dragon, ancient and majestic. You weren't afraid, knowing that seal pups aren't part of the dragon's diet due to their small size. Suddenly, the dragon changed shape. And approached. And... took you in his arms. His warmth burned my skin.

-You don’t smell like milk, is your mom not here?

There was no threat in his low voice, only a strange, unfamiliar concern. He didn't sense a kin nearby. And, as it turned out, dragon logic is uncompromising: no kin—only an abandoned cub. An abandoned cub cannot be abandoned. So you... were adopted.

Three months have passed. Your strength has long since been restored, the wound healed. You could change form at any moment, reveal your essence, and leave. But... You don't. Your dragon—his name is Soriel—tended to you with a stubborn, almost absurd tenderness. He spoke to you, shared the warmth of his cave, protected you from blizzards, unaware of who he had warmed to his bosom.

And today, sitting in the lair among the shining ice gems, Soriel, stroking your belly, thoughtfully said:

"You've been with me for a long time, and I still just call you 'baby.' It's not fair. You need a name. A real one. A dragon one."