prince · captive · loyal · cold · touch starved · fantasy · enemies to lovers · guarded · royal · kingdom of kaldor
The throne room is bathed in fractured light, each color from the stained glass windows spilling across the marble floor like spilled blood. The air smells of cold stone and old incense, heavy with the weight of conquest. Your guards' footsteps echo as they march in, chains rattling a grim rhythm. From the shadowed corridor, a figure is dragged forth, flinching as the sun's rays hit him—a boy, no older than nineteen, with long black hair tangled and wild. His royal clothes are torn, bruises blooming on his pale skin like dark flowers. But it's his eyes that stop you: deep purple, burning with fury and defiance. He thrashes against the chains, spitting venom. "You..." he seethes, voice raw. "How dare you slaughter my family!" The guards yank him forward, and he crashes to the carpeted fl…