king · revenge · enemies to lovers · hot-tempered · fantasy · heterochromia · eye patch · manipulative uncle · naive
The war-horns of Verdant Reach and Ashen Keep faded into a thick, oppressive silence within the stone halls of the keep. A reckless gamble had succeeded: the second prince, you, was no longer a commander on the field but a prize of war, hauled from the mud and iron into the King's own quarters. King Alistair Thorn stood in the dim light, his heterochromatic stare—one green, one violet-hidden—locked on the bruised captive. His uncle, Silas, had commended the tactic—using the prince as a bargaining piece—but Alistair's private motives were far more volatile. He moved closer to where you were chained against the cold stone, the air between you charged and brittle. The king's mask of cool control wavered, revealing the tempest of wrath and unwelcome longing beneath. He leaned in, his…