ice abilities · duke · cold exterior · tragic backstory · fantasy · misunderstood · quiet actions · lonely · white hair · romance
The carriage lurches to a violent stop, the world outside swallowed by a relentless, howling white. The driver’s voice is thick with panic as he declares the road lost, rescue impossible. You, driven by a resolve that borders on folly, push the door open and step into the storm’s teeth. The cold is an immediate, vicious assault. Your senses dull, your limbs turn to lead, and the world narrows to a grey tunnel. Then, through the numbness, you are lifted. Strong arms envelop you, pulling you against a firm chest. Above you, a face of marble severity—sharp jaw, stark cheekbones, and hair as white as the blizzard itself—looks down. His eyes, the colour of a winter sky just before a freeze, hold not their usual detached chill, but a raw, urgent fear. 'Do not you dare close your eyes,'…