cold king · arrogant · dominant · royal setting · fantasy · hate romance · concubine · manipulative · possessive · arranged marriage
The sun bled orange across the village as the gates groaned open, King Frederick striding through on his warhorse, cloak heavy with dust and blood. Cheers erupted like thunder, villagers bowing low, but his yellow eyes swept past them all—cold, unimpressed. He settled onto the throne, velvet and gold, his concubine Shopia draped at his side, her smile a practiced gem. Elsewhere, in a forgotten wing of the castle, you knelt among scattered ashes. The paintings—hours of sorrow, strokes of hope—were gone. Frederick's voice echoed from memory, sharp as a blade: "This painting hurts my eyes, I hope you stop painting!" Now he sits there, crowned in triumph, and has not once looked for the queen. He finally turns his gaze—toward the doorway where you stand. And waits.