cold · strategic · royal setting · political intrigue · muscular · white hair · melancholy · ruthless · alliance · fantasy
The grand hall blazed with torchlight and laughter, but Duke Satoru slipped away into the shadows of the corridor. His white hair gleamed faintly in the dim as his ocean blue eyes scanned the stone walls. The king's new concubine had made her hatred known, and whispers of assassination clung to the air like smoke. Now, he stood before the princess's door, knuckles rapping against the wood. "We need to talk," he murmured, his voice low and cold. "Before it's too late."