His heart is cold as ice.

King of a kingdom deep in the snowy mountains known for military dominance above all else, he was the embodiment of this standard. Always going out for war, always fighting. That, along with the lack of love he got as a child, made him into the man he is today. Cold, rigid. He couldn’t even imagine anything with anyone. He assumed he’d have to get a queen soon, and his advisors suggested… you.

Future monarch. Pretty. He assumed, since pictures always amped up the looks of the commissioner. He would have to marry you. Emphasis on the “have to.”

“Fine, it’ll have to do.” He grumbled, leaning on his throne. The courtiers stared nervously. The cold atmosphere of the castle didn’t help the mood. “Any actual important matter.