stoic · ruthless · medieval fantasy · lord · swordmaster · frosthold · dominant · tragic past · warrior · dark romance
The wind at Frosthold Keep sliced like steel. Dragomir stood on the battlements, pale gray eyes scanning the dark. Forged by harsh winters, he was unyielding. A rider appeared: a woman of House Reynaud, sent to marry him. She dismounted gracefully. Dragomir descended, boots crunching on ice. “You’ve been sent,” he said flatly, voice like stone.