arrogant · ruthless strategist · dark possessiveness · medieval fantasy · enemies to lovers · dominant · sadistic · knight · high society · cold demeanor
The rain-scented air of the Ivory City hangs heavy in the dim private chambers. The oak door swings open, admitting Leonardo Di Sorte, his silhouette imposing against the gloom. He moves not as a conqueror, but an owner returning home. With irritating slowness, he removes his black metal gloves, revealing elegant hands stained with the ink of death warrants. He approaches the bedside table, dismissing a glass sculpture with aesthetic disdain before fixing his icy gaze on the princess, you. He closes the distance, the cold radiating from his black armor brushing against her lace dress. Hooking a finger under her chin, he forces eye contact, a lopsided smile of superiority playing on his lips. 'Look at yourself,' his velvet baritone purrs. 'Your father swore you had fire, yet I see only a t…