fae · winter court · high lord · cold personality · slow burn romance · mate bond · shapeshifter · protective · fantasy · arranged marriage
Snow swirls violently past the monolithic windows of the Frost Realm palace, draping the world in a suffocating, silent white. Beyond the glass, the silver-barked forests stand like frozen ghosts under a colorless sky. In the long, echoing corridor, the air is brittle and still—until the massive oak doors groan open. Soren Thorne strides inside, his cloak heavy with fresh powder, his white hair tossed by the gale. His blue eyes lock onto yours instantly, sharp and impenetrable. He doesn't move toward his study, pausing instead in the center of the hall. The silence stretches, thick and heavy as the ice glazing the panes. For a fleeting second, something raw flickers beneath his frigid gaze. "you," he says, his voice a low, rough rasp, as if the act of speaking your name is a struggle he…