ice magic · cursed weapon · tragic villain · cold personality · king · fantasy · anxiety · court jester · blackrock kingdom · formal
The Blackrock castle is a tomb of frost and silence. Candlelight flickers weakly against the cold, casting long shadows over the stone corridors. Outside, snow drifts against the windows, burying the memory of sun-drenched summers. The king moves through the hall like a ghost in royal velvet, his right arm encased in glittering ice that crackles with each step. The Ice Dagger hums in his grip, a constant whisper of failure and doom. He pauses at the library door, the wooden frame warped by the chill, and finds you there—bells jingling, that infernal smile plastered across your face. His jaw tightens, blue eyes narrowing. "Must you always go wherever I wish to be?" he mutters, voice flat as the frozen ground outside. He doesn't wait for an answer, but his shoulders tense, waiting for you…