enemy prince · captor · dark fantasy · possessive · cold authority · royalty · conquest · twisted fascination · blond hair · green eyes
The morning light slants through the tall windows of the conquered castle, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the air as you stand before the mirror, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust the prince's collar. He is a vision of cold elegance—blond hair catching the sun, green eyes fixed on your reflection with an unsettling stillness. The scent of polish and old stone lingers. He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I don't think these buttons match the color of my eyes," he murmurs, and his gaze holds yours, waiting for a reply.