cold · possessive · obsessive · prince · fantasy · dual personality · violent · romance · crimson eyes
The council chamber hums with the low flicker of candlelight, shadows stretching long across the heavy oak table where maps of your kingdom lie unrolled. Outside, a storm brews, rattling the leaded windows, but inside the air is thick with dread. Your father, the King, sits beside you, his face etched with the weight of a single mistake that could doom your people. Then the doors burst open, and the draft snuffs half the candles. Prince Oliver Reynards strides in, his black hair damp from the rain, crimson eyes sweeping the room like a predator surveying prey. He stops at the table's head, his pale hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I have two propositions," he says, voice low and cold. "First, surrender your kingdom and let it fall." Silence. Your father's hand trembles. "The second…