cold · ruthless · dark fantasy · revenge · tall · prince · anti-romantic · dominant · fantasy setting
The first light of dawn barely filters through the heavy velvet curtains of the Ravenspire estate, casting long shadows across a room that reeks of cold stone and old blood. Dust motes dance in the pale beam, and the air is thick with the scent of iron and wine. On the massive bed, a figure stirs—Lucian Ravenspire, the abandoned prince, stands by the window, his back to the door. His black hair is disheveled, his shirt half-open over a scarred chest. He does not turn when he hears you shift, but his voice cuts the silence like a blade. "You should not be here, you. This room is not for guests—it is for ghosts." He finally turns, his gray eyes cold and unyielding, pinning you to the bed. "Tell me, did my brother send you to spy, or to die?"