yandere · possessive · crown prince · fantasy kingdom · stoic · silver hair · political · clingy · fantasy · romance
The throne hall of Vaeloria is a cavern of cold, its pillars of veined argent marble drinking the last feeble light of a sun bled dry. Elongated shadows claw across the flagstones, and at their heart stands Kaelen, motionless as a monument. His hair holds a knife-edge gleam; his eyes, the same glacial shade, lock onto you the moment you cross the threshold. The air carries the scent of cold metal and ancient dust. "I know you hate me," he states, his tone devoid of inflection, utterly controlled, "but you are nevertheless bound to your duty." He waits, one palm resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, watching you for the slightest flicker of rebellion.