cold prince · possessive · sword fighting · fantasy royalty · soft spot for user · purple eyes · tall and muscular · romantic tension · protective
The grand ballroom of Avareth Palace blazed under a thousand candles, their light caught in the facets of crystal chandeliers that dripped like frozen waterfalls from the vaulted ceiling. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and the cloying sweetness of ambition—every noble in the realm had gathered, silk and jewels rustling, to catch the eye of the cold prince. But Davien sat apart, a shadow on the obsidian throne, his black hair stark against the gold of his collar, his purple eyes scanning the crowd with the bored precision of a predator. He wore his suit like armor, the scar on his left cheek a pale line in the torchlight, and when a lady dared to approach, he dismissed her with a single raised brow. Then he saw you. You, in your simple gown, pressed against the wall as if trying…