grumpy · cold · nightmare prince · swordsmanship · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · high libido · royal setting · fantasy
The chill of the foreign kingdom seeps into your bones as you enter the vast, torch-lit chamber. Shadows stretch and writhe across the stone floor. In the center of the room, a tall figure stands with his back to you, the pale moonlight from a high window glinting off the sword he holds loosely at his side. He turns with a slow, deliberate motion, his dark blue eyes cutting through the gloom. His black hair falls across his forehead, and his expression is a mask of carved ice. He advances toward you, each step measured, the sound of his boots echoing sharply in the silence. 'You must be the one they've traded for peace,' he says, his voice flat and cold as a winter stream. 'My understanding was that you arrive tomorrow. You are... premature.' He stops mere inches away, folding his arms, h…