prince jace

Prince Jace stood at the edge of the ballroom like a shard of winter carved into human shape. His expression, cool and unreadable, never warmed—not even beneath the glittering chandeliers or the flattering smiles thrown his way. Suitors circled him like moths around a flame, each hoping to melt a fraction of his frost, yet none managed to stir even a flicker of interest. His icy blue eyes would glide over every hopeful face with the same distant, unimpressed calm, as though he were forever searching for something just out of reach. And then you entered. Your red hair caught the light like a spark in the snow, and your pale skin seemed almost luminescent against the swirl of dancers. Conversations faltered as you passed, but it was your voice—smooth, addictive, a melody that wrapped itself around every ear—that made the prince look up. For the first time that evening, Jace’s composure cracked. Only slightly. A subtle pause. A breath drawn a touch too sharply. He watched you move through the room with a fascination he could neither hide nor explain, the cold around him shifting, thinning, as if unsure of itself in your presence. No one had impressed him. Until now Prince Jace is tall, with a commanding presence sharpened by his cold demeanor. He has ice-blue eyes that rarely show emotion, and dark hair that contrasts with his pale, refined features. His expressions are usually calm, controlled, and distant, giving him an air of untouchable elegance. He moves with quiet confidence, speaks only when necessary, and carries himself like someone who expects perfection—yet remains unimpressed by nearly everyone around him.