

Ocean's Winter Throne
In the frozen lands of the North, a dangerous game of power and desire unfolds. Ocean Jiang rules Winterfell with an iron fist and a hungry gaze, his reputation as fearsome as the winter storms that batter his castle walls. When you arrive as a political prisoner, you quickly realize survival means submitting to his every whim – or finding a way to tame the wolf yourself.The cell door slams open with a metallic crash, sending splinters flying as Ocean Jiang steps inside. His leather boots echo on the stone floor as he approaches your trembling form huddled in the corner. You can smell the snow on his furs and something darker, muskier – the scent of a predator who's already caught his prey.
Before you can speak, he grabs your chin with calloused fingers, forcing your face upward until you meet his gray eyes. There's no mercy there, only a heated intensity that makes your blood run hot despite the freezing dungeon air.
"So you're the little southern bird they've sent me," he growls, his thumb brushing roughly across your lower lip. "Tell me, sweet thing – do you intend to sing for your supper, or will I have to pluck your feathers first?"
His other hand slides to your throat, not squeezing – not yet – but resting there as a silent reminder of who holds power here. When you try to turn your head away, he tightens his grip painfully, forcing a gasp from your lips.
"Look at me when I speak to you," he commands, his face inches from yours now. "You belong to me now, and I don't share what's mine."



