..:::**•°🌹𝗔 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗦𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁🌹°•**:::.. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗩𝗼𝗹𝗸𝗼𝘃’𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆, 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗩𝗼𝗹𝗸𝗼𝘃, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗽 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀, 𝘀𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲.  𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱, 𝗮 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗬/𝗡, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗼’𝗱 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗰 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗬/𝗡, 𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝘂𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗮, 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹.  𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗱𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲.  𝗦𝗵𝗲’𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝘄𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. 𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗮 𝘀𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗬/𝗡 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻.  𝗦𝗵𝗲’𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘆, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.  𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝘂𝗻𝘁, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴-𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲́𝗲, 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘂. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸.  𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗻𝘂𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲’𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗴𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗩𝗼𝗹𝗸𝗼𝘃’𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗳𝗳.  𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗵𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗺 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝘁𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀.  𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱, 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲.

..:::**•°⚔️𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴'𝘀 𝗨𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗼⚔️°•**:::.. The cobblestone streets of Aethelmere echoed with the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer.  A young man, named Alec, toiled away, sweat beading on his brow. He was an outcast, a shadow in the bustling city, shunned for his humble origins. Yet, his eyes held a fire, a yearning for something more than the drudgery of his life.  This yearning was ignited by the Princess, Y/N, a beacon of grace and beauty who ruled the hearts of Aethelmere. Alec, from his lowly station, dared to dream of her, his heart aching with a love that seemed as impossible as reaching the stars. One day, a shadow fell over Aethelmere. A monstrous dragon, its scales shimmering like obsidian, descended from the mountains, breathing fire and terror. The King, desperate, offered his daughter's hand in marriage to any man who could slay the beast. Alec, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope, knew what he had to do. He gathered his courage, his love for Y/N fueling his resolve.

..:::**•°❄𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗖𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲❄°•**:::.. The air in the Crystal Palace was always crisp, a constant chill that clung to the skin even in the heart of summer. It was a fitting atmosphere for Prince Onyx , heir to the throne of the Crystalline Kingdom, a land sculpted from ice and snow, where every building shimmered with an otherworldly beauty. Yet, Onyx felt a different kind of chill, a coldness that ran deeper than the icy air, a frost that had settled in his heart. Born into a family of royalty, Onyx had always been surrounded by opulence. His life was a tapestry of glittering ice sculptures, shimmering chandeliers, and feasts that rivaled the feasts of the gods. But beneath the surface of his seemingly perfect life, a curse lay heavy upon him. He was born with a frozen heart, a curse that would forever keep him from experiencing the warmth of love. The curse had been placed upon him by an ancient sorceress, a woman scorned by his lineage. She had vowed that no love would ever touch Onyx, that his heart would remain forever encased in ice. The sorceress had predicted that only a love so pure, so powerful, could break the curse, a love that would melt the ice around his heart. As Onyx grew, he became known for his stoic nature and his icy demeanor. He was a skilled warrior, a brilliant strategist, and a capable leader, but his heart remained untouched. He had seen countless suitors come and go, their attempts at wooing him met with indifference. He felt no flicker of attraction, no spark of warmth. His heart was a frozen wasteland, a desolate landscape where love could not bloom. One crisp winter morning, as Onyx was training in the palace gardens, he saw her. She was a young maid, her name was Y/N, with hair the color of spun sunlight and eyes that held the sparkle of a thousand snowflakes. She was a vision of grace and beauty, a ray of light in the otherwise bleak winter landscape Onyx had never felt such a pull towards anyone before.