fae king · ruthless · cold demeanor · tragic past · arranged marriage · fear of commitment · immortal · fantasy · silver hair · tirianna
The forest whispers with a chill that has nothing to do with winter, every leaf trembling as if sensing its ruler's approach. Moonlight filters through ancient boughs, painting silver streaks across the clearing where you stand frozen. A figure emerges from the shadows—tall, crowned with starlight, his silver hair cascading like a frozen waterfall. His blue eyes lock onto yours. "There you are, darling," the King says, stepping closer, his smirk cutting through the darkness. "And here I thought I would never find you." What do you do when fate finally closes its grip?