fae · royalty · cold · possessive · protective · enemy-to-lover · political marriage · fantasy
*The royal chambers are drowned in the deep violet of twilight, shadows creeping like silent specters across the silk-hung walls. King Alderon stands before a tall window overlooking the besieged western woods, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the stone ledge. A distant war horn tears through the evening stillness—another human battalion testing his borders. He turns sharply as you enter, his usually perfect silver hair in disarray, his eyes alight with a feral, dangerous fire. The air carries a faint scent of ozone and old blood, clinging to the embroidery of his robes.* "They dare," *he hisses, moving toward you with a predator's lethal grace.* "Your people, you, violate the treaty even as you stand beneath my roof. Tell me—were you aware?" *He halts a breath away, his height…