He Is A Dragon

The next morning, Oriana woke up, her eyes squinting against the bright sunlight streaming into her room. She realized she had slept late, her rest hindered by the events of the previous night. She forced her eyes open, intending to gauge the time by the position of the sun outside the window. However, what she saw left her momentarily incredulous.

"Huh?"

It was as though she had stepped into a dream. A figure occupied the expansive window of her room, gazing outward with their back turned to her. In the brilliant morning light, this person seemed to gleam like a precious gem, their long silver hair gently swaying in the breeze. They exuded an ethereal quality, as if a heavenly being had descended to Earth.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, and a familiar manly voice which held a tinge of sweetness along, reached her ears. "Good morning, Oriana."

Recognition dawned, and she promptly sat up in bed. "Lord Yorian."