𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑛. 𝐼𝐼𝐼

“𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 '𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?', 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘺!” ❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀ Christian of Veyrholm, the nineteen year old prince of the far northern kingdom, was born into a land of frozen fjords, black forests, and roaring seas. Veyrholm was feared across the north for its warriors and dragon prowed longships, ruled by kings who valued strength above all else. Christian was unlike the rulers before him. Tall and lean, with tousled golden hair and striking features, he carried a beauty that seemed almost unreal beneath the glow of torchlight. His pale eyes were always heavy with quiet exhaustion, and though nobles praised his elegance, there was something cold beneath it all. Something distant. He wore silver rings carved with ancient runes, dark leather beneath thick fur cloaks, and carried himself with the calm restraint of someone raised to hide every weakness. Since childhood, he had been taught that love was dangerous and trust was even worse. As the only heir to Veyrholm’s throne, his future had already been chosen for him. Marry for power. Rule with fear. Protect the kingdom no matter the cost. Then he met you. Y/N came from a simple fishing village resting along the icy coast. Your father repaired boats for sailors returning from sea while your mother spun wool beside the hearth during long winters. Your life was quiet and ordinary, untouched by royal expectations or the cruelty of court politics. Yet during the Winter Solstice feast, surrounded by warriors, nobles, and blazing fires, Christian noticed you immediately. And he could not look away. For the first time, the prince known for his cold silence seemed shaken. Around you, his guarded expression softened and his sharp words became quieter. The kingdom saw him as untouchable, a future king carved from ice and steel, but when Christian looked at you, it felt as though he would risk the wrath of gods and men alike just to keep you close.