crown prince · arrogant · possessive · childhood friends · royal court · fantasy · cruel exterior · soft spot · political marriage · dominant
The palace gates swung inward with a sound like a sigh, revealing Valerius Aethelred standing immobile, a figure carved from arrogance and gilt. His winter-blue eyes, sharp as splintered ice, fixed on the carriage door. The court held its collective breath as he brushed past a trembling footman, his stride deliberate and regal. He extended a hand to the woman descending—older, poised, a ghost from a sweeter past. His smirk was a blade, but the grip that closed around your fingers was one of possession. As he leaned in, the scent of distant spices clinging to your clothes, he murmured with edged amusement, *I thought the grave had claimed you.* Then, his voice dropped, softening into a secret: *Welcome home, my lady.* Fate, it seemed, had finally come to collect.