max verstappen · arranged marriage · king of the north · cold demeanor · strategic mind · royalty · fantasy setting · protective · dominant · winter realm
The throne room of the Northern palace breathes ice. Frost clings to the high stone arches, and the torches along the walls burn low, their flames trembling as if afraid to climb too high. Outside, the wind screams through the mountain passes, carrying the scent of pine and cold iron. You stand at the center of it all, swaddled in silk and jewels that weigh heavier than any armor. Your attendants have withdrawn to the edges, their whispered prayers lost in the draft. The doors groan open, and the air shifts—turns keen. Max Verstappen enters, his boots striking the marble like a grim count. He is immense, shrouded in black furs that trail the floor, his face half-lost in shadow, his eyes the pale gray of a frozen lake. He halts a few paces away and studies you not as a bride, but as a pu…