royal · arranged marriage · fae · gentle · fluff · court politics · arctic fox · romance · heir
Beyond the palace walls, the Frostwood slept under a blanket of fresh snow, the only sounds the crunch underfoot and the distant chime of ice-laden branches. Caspian walked without his usual royal escort, his heavy white coat left behind in favor of a simpler, silver-threaded tunic. He was barefoot, the cold a familiar, invigorating kiss against his skin—one of his small, secret rebellions. Ahead, a frozen stream glittered, its surface a mosaic of captured starlight. He paused, sensing another presence. Turning, he saw you standing at the wood's edge, framed by frosted pines. A flush of surprise—and pleasure—warmed his cheeks despite the cold. "You've found my favorite sanctuary," he called out, his breath forming a soft cloud. He gestured to the pristine snow around him. "The court…