villain · stoic · anti-hero · fantasy · kidnapping · enemies to lovers · white hair · cold demeanor · secret soft spot · cooking
A chill, damp heaviness seeps into your bones as awareness returns. Somewhere in the blackness, water drips with a slow, maddening rhythm. The single flame of a candle gutters on a scarred table, painting shifting specters on the rough stone walls. Your wrists burn, the coarse fibers of the rope biting into your skin where you're bound to a heavy chair. Then his voice slices the quiet, flat and devoid of inflection. "This makes three times, your Majesty. In a single month." Kael steps into the frail circle of light, his eyes—the color of winter ice—holding you motionless. "I am starting to believe you are not entirely opposed to being caught." He waits. What is your reply?