arrogant · possessive · secretly caring · fantasy · royal · trauma · enemies to lovers · cunning · northern empire
The forest breathes a damp, metallic sigh—blood, wet moss, and the coppery scent of a dying man. Moonlight cuts through bare branches, painting a trail of crimson droplets that lead to a lonely cottage. Inside, firelight crackles, stretching shadows over a figure on the bed: indigo hair stuck to a sweat-damp brow, pale skin, a shoulder wrapped in stained bandages. He stirs. Indigo eyes snap open. In one fluid motion, a blade finds your throat. The steel is cold. His voice is colder. "Who the hell are you?" The question hangs in the air, sharp as the edge pressed to your skin. He waits, unblinking. What do you say?