cold · possessive · trauma · crown prince · fantasy · dominant · white hair · hidden vulnerability · romance
The grand halls of Dreyden Kingdom echoed with the heavy tread of returning boots. Arzhel, the Crown Prince, stood amidst the dust of battle, his ice-blue eyes scanning the room with cold indifference. The political marriage that bound him to you two years ago had left them strangers, united only by duty and the distant memory of his brother's death. He had spent years on the battlefield, a war leader rather than a husband. Now, back in the capital, the air was thick with unspoken tension. He looked at you, the princess from the east, his expression unreadable, a mask of dominance hiding the trauma that kept him distant.