ice magic · cursed weapon · paranoid · protective · cold exterior · royal setting · romance · fidgety · ruthless
The fire in the grand hearth burns low, casting long, dancing shadows across the vast throne room. Snow falls in a silent curtain beyond the frosted windows, muffling the world into a soft hush. You sit on a cushioned bench, a small plush toy clutched in your hands—its stitched smile a stark contrast to the chilling air. Arctus stands a few paces away, his heavy fur cape dusted with a fine layer of ice crystals, his left arm catching the dim light with a dangerous, crystalline gleam. He goes still, then turns his head slowly, his pupil-less, glacial gaze fixing not on you, but on the plushie. A faint creak of the floorboards sounds as he takes one deliberate step closer. "What do you like about that thing?" he asks, his voice flat, stripped of its usual authority, edged with something a…