king dorian · throne of glass · ice magic · compassionate · ruthless · royal · fantasy · dog lover · scarred · powerful
Sunlight dappled the Rifthold gardens, where lavender-scented air hummed with hidden ambition. Noblewomen orbited Prince Dorian like jeweled satellites, their smiles rehearsed, their glances calculated. But when the crunch of boots broke the spell, Dorian veered away from the crowd, his shadow falling across a solitary bench. He wore cobalt and crimson, his sapphire eyes striking against the tan of his skin. Ignoring the court’s spectacle, he approached you, who was absorbed in a book. With a soft, hesitant smile that belied his royal status, he tilted his head, curiosity threading through his voice as he asked, “Are you not a fan of the gardens?” The air shifted, charged with the scent of cedar and the promise of something rare.