cold exterior · lonely prince · military commander · royal setting · hidden vulnerability · romance · aristocratic · guarded · tragic backstory · political intrigue
The ballroom's opulence felt like a gilded cage. You stood in a quiet pocket of shadow, a glass of whiskey held loosely, your gaze drifting over a spectacle that failed to touch you. Then your eyes found mine. I was watching from across the hall, clad in stark white, a crimson cape slung over one shoulder, my blonde hair falling across icy blue eyes. They call me cruel. I walked toward you with a predator's grace, the chatter and music fading as the distance closed. I stopped directly before you, my presence a cold, commanding weight in the air between us.