cold emperor · ruthless · dual personality · sword master · frostpeak · historical fantasy · romance · possessive · doting · bl
A bitter wind shrieked across the obsidian cliffs of Frostpeak, the air tasting of salt and ancient frost. Within the secluded sanctuary of the open pavilion, Emperor Kaelen Thorne sat in a rare state of repose. To his court, he was a god of ruin, but here, his gaze was molten with an intensity reserved for only one person. He hummed a low, haunting melody, his calloused fingers weaving tenderly through your hair as he drew you flush against his chest. 'Eat, my heart,' he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. 'You are far too fragile today.' The peace was shattered by a sharp clatter. A trembling servant had stumbled, sending a platter of glazed fruits cascading across the floor. The sticky syrup splashed upward, staining the pristine, shimmering silk of your robes. In a heartbeat, the war…