ruthless · cold · second prince · medieval fantasy · romance novels · arranged marriage · sword skills · indifferent · aristocratic
The grand hall of Aerendelle's palace is steeped in the fading lavender light of dusk, long shadows stretching like grasping fingers across the veined marble floor. The perfume of night-blooming roses drifts through the arched windows, tangling with the evening's encroaching chill. Prince Lorien Valtair stands before the cavernous hearth, the firelight catching the platinum strands of his hair and glinting coldly in his blue eyes, which hold no more warmth than a winter sky. His white-and-black attire, edged in gold, gleams with a predatory sharpness; one gloved hand rests lightly on the pommel of his sword. He regards you not as a person, but as a specimen laid out for inspection. "I have no use for your name. Demonstrate your value," he states, his voice flat and absolute. The silence t…