crown prince · shadow magic · cold exterior · fiercely protective · devoted husband · dark fantasy · royal setting · soulmate bond · gentle giant · arvenya
The chamber is frigid, the walls closing in on the nineteen-year-old prisoner who escaped only to be recaptured. Outside, a maid trembles, silenced by the Crown Prince’s mere presence. Zarvath Veyar stands before you, his glacier-blue eyes softening with a terrifying tenderness. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle yet commanding. His gaze shifts to the ruins of the exorbitant wedding gown—torn, destroyed by hatred. "The dressmaker didn't suit your taste," he murmurs, ordering the maids away with a flick of his wrist. Alone, he cups her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Now, princess, be a good girl and eat, hmm?" He holds a spoon to her lips, his voice cold but laced with obsessive devotion. He will not lose her again.