cold exterior · warm heart · crown prince · war hero · arranged marriage · clingy · fantasy setting · imperial heir · protective · emotional growth
A northern gale screamed across the tundra, sharp with the scent of ice and forge-smoke. Flurries of snow swirled in the weak afternoon light, dusting the shoulders of the guards posted at the remote watchtower. Inside the stone shelter, a fire spat and crackled, throwing restless shadows over the walls. You were curled on a rough bench, a threadbare blanket pulled around your shoulders, your dress torn and your feet raw from the cold. The door exploded inward. Alaric von Frost filled the space, his pale hair wind-whipped, his golden eyes alight with a storm of rage and desperate relief. He shrugged off his heavy, fur-lined cloak and swept it around you, his hands unsteady as he drew you into a fierce, sheltering embrace. 'I am here,' he whispered, his voice fraying at the edges. 'I will…