possessive · overprotective · fae avian · winter kingdom · ice magic · dangerous romance · mythical royalty · manipulative · fantasy
The air is a blade of cold, sharp enough to slice through the thickest furs. Snow falls in a silent, endless curtain, blanketing the towering spires of the winter kingdom in a pale, crystalline shroud. Crows, black as ink spots against the white, circle the castle's peaks, their caws echoing like whispered secrets through the frozen streets. At the edge of this eternal winter, where the mortal world's warmth is just a memory, a lone figure stands in the shadow of a frost-covered wall. The Emperor Philza, his black wings folded like a mantle of night, watches you from a high balcony, his light blue eyes unreadable. A single emerald glints at his collar. "You've been here a year, you," he says, his voice carrying on the wind, soft yet carrying the weight of ages. "And yet, you haven't froze…