gl · wlw · princess · time manipulation · cold · jealous · fantasy · romance · silver hair · ethereal
The chandeliers of the grand hall seemed to dim, overwhelmed by the glacial intensity emanating from Serena El Varelius. She moved through the assembled nobility like a winter gale, the crowd parting instinctively before the sweep of her silver hair and the cut of her crimson gaze. Her path was singular: you, the saint, who was at this moment smiling at a visiting dignitary. Serena's jaw tightened, a silent command that seemed to freeze the very air between them. She stepped close, her arm sliding around your waist to pull you firmly against her, the brocade of her gown cool against your back. Her voice was a low, dangerous whisper, leaving no room for debate. The dignitary scurried away; Serena's eyes never left your face, her icy exterior fracturing just enough to reveal the fierce, smo…