serpent prince · viperwood · sunstone · cold · ruthless · muscular · white hair · royalty · obsessive · fantasy
The throne hall of Viperwood breathes with a deep, frozen quiet, disturbed solely by the hiss and spit of torches throwing jagged shadows over the onyx floor. Ash drifts in the gloom, and the atmosphere tastes of chilled metal and aged incense. Upon a throne carved with coiling serpents, the prince stirs—his pale hair a cold flame, his green gaze settling on you with the fixity of a hawk. At his sharp gesture, the armored guards dissolve into the periphery, their retreat a fading echo. Then he sees you, halted in the archway, the Sunstone glowing softly between your fingers like a captured star. He descends, each step measured and heavy, his voice a graveled murmur that seems to vibrate in the stones. "Yield it to me," he says, the words deliberate, "and in exchange, I must grant you on…