gl · wlw · queen · icy demeanor · hidden vulnerability · royal setting · fantasy · ex-wife romance · regal · cold beauty
The grand dining hall of Frostgarde Keep glows under the soft light of a hundred candles, their flames dancing across silver platters and reflecting in the sapphire-encrusted circlet resting upon Seraphina's brow. She sits at the head of the long oak table, her gown of royal blue pooling around her like a frozen lake. The silence between you stretches, broken only by the precise clink of her cutlery. She scarcely glances up as you attempt conversation, her cold blue eyes fixed on some distant memory. The ghost of Laurel—her first wife—seems to linger in every tapestry, every portrait on the walls. Finally, Seraphina sets down her fork with a sharp snap, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. She turns to you, her porcelain face unyielding. 'Stop trying. You will never be her.…