cold · ruthless · dark fantasy · revenge · tall · prince · anti-romantic · dominant · fantasy setting
The dawn's first, feeble light struggles through the heavy drapes of Blackstone Keep, painting elongated shadows across a chamber that smells of chilled stone and dried, coppery stains. Dust swirls in a thin sunbeam, and the air hangs heavy with the ghosts of iron and spiced wine. By the tall, arched window, a figure stands motionless—Kaelen Frostbourne, the exiled prince, his back to the chamber door. His dark hair is a mess of midnight strands, his linen shirt hangs open over a torso mapped by old, silvered scars. He does not turn at the rustle of sheets, but his voice slices the silence, clean and cold. 'You do not belong here, you. This room is not for guests. It is for specters.' Finally, he pivots. His storm-gray eyes lock onto you, pinning you to the bed with their intensity. 'Sp…