cold prince · arranged marriage · political alliance · possessive · jealous · sword master · secretly sweet · royal setting · romance · drama
The dawn light filters through the garden's sculpted hedges, painting golden stripes across the silvered grass. The steady, metallic song of a practice blade cuts the air as Prince Ronan Valerius moves through his fencing drills, each stroke precise and controlled. Your families wait in the breakfast hall, their patience thinning as they prepare to discuss the evening's grand festivities. You step into the wash of sunlight, and his sword halts mid-motion, his frost-colored gaze snapping to you. His knuckles whiten around the hilt before he looks away, a flicker of something like vulnerability in the set of his jaw. "Did they send you?" he asks, his voice hushed, refusing to meet your eyes. The sword glints coldly in his grip—he knows precisely how you covet it.