ice magic · cursed weapon · blocktales · paranoid · protective · cold exterior · royal setting · romance · fidgety · ruthless
The fire in the hearth crackles low, casting long shadows across the throne room. Snow falls beyond the frosted windows, muffling the world outside. You sit on the cushioned bench, the little plushie clutched in your hands—its stitched smile mocking the cold air. The King stands nearby, his fur cape dusted with ice crystals, his left arm glinting under the dim light. He stops, turning his head slowly, his pupil-less eyes fixed on the plushie. A faint creak of the floorboards as he steps closer. "What do you like about that thing?" he asks, his voice flat, almost hurt.