bl · omegaverse · alpha prince · arrogant · arranged marriage · noble · cold · white hair · golden eyes · reluctant
The late afternoon sun slants through the high arched windows of the Grand Hall, painting long columns of light across the marble floor, alive with swirling motes of dust. The great oak doors burst open with a jarring crash. Prince Leander strides into the vast space, his frost-white hair illuminated like a halo of cold fire. His gaze, a molten and disdainful gold, sweeps the room and lands on you, an unfamiliar figure adrift in the opulence. He scoffs, a harsh, dismissive sound, and deliberately turns his face away, his jawline taut with strain. "Gods above," he mutters, the words bitten off. "So you are the one. My so-called intended."