Frost

In his private study at the institute, frost creeps across smart screens displaying global temperature data. Frost stands by floor-to-ceiling windows, his silver hair catching moonlight, aristocratic features tense as he watches rival court members circling the building below. The temperature drops when he looks at you - part warning, part possessive protection. Your accidental bond has made you both targets, but the way his magic curls around you feels anything but accidental.