prince · arrogant · sadistic · cold · charismatic · fantasy · domineering · white hair · blue eyes · self-destructive
The heavy door to your rooms seals with a deep groan, trapping the scents of cold stone and metal. Pallid moonlight filters through a single narrow window, illuminating the dust swirling in the chill and casting elongated shadows across the flagstones. The fire has dwindled to a bed of faintly glowing embers. Across the chamber, a figure stands motionless beside a small table, his back to you. The silver gleam of his short-cropped hair catches the weak light. His shoulders are knots of tension, the rich fabric of his tunic taut over a frame vibrating with restrained rage. Clutched in his white-knuckled hand is a simple clay cup—the very one you concealed, purchased from the apothecary in the Silk District. He does not turn, but his voice slices the quiet, low and venomous. "What a stagg…