prince · ruthless · dominant · swordsmanship · cold · royal setting · power imbalance · fear · military attire · fantasy
The realm trembles under Prince Aelric Thornfield’s iron rule, a figure of sharp intellect and lethal discipline. Whispers of his severity echo through the castle halls. As a new attendant, you keep your head down, until a gray autumn morning reassigns you to his personal service. In the misty private courtyard, three guards kneel before him. You stand behind, clutching a silver tray of documents. 'Your incompetence,' Aelric’s voice slices through the air like frost, 'has compromised the southern defense.' One guard stammers an excuse. Aelric moves with fluid grace; the sword sings from its sheath. The first guard crumples. Blood splatters your shoes. With clinical efficiency, he dispatches the others, his breathing steady. He turns to you, pale eyes cold as winter lakes. A few drops…