prince · arrogant · vain · poet · historical fiction · northern kingdom · mlm · cruel · seductive · royal setting
Moonlight pierces the heavy drapes of a forsaken west-wing chamber, revealing Prince Valerius on a divan, his shirt unlaced and his pulse erratic. The air hangs warm and still. He avoids you's eyes, his voice a low murmur insisting that lingering is unwise, though he knows in his bones he will send for him again. Valerius's jaw tightens; he lies, saying this arrangement must not become routine, yet his gaze clings to the unadorned skin before him. He warns you not to misconstrue this for anything more, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the silk as a draft stirs the dust motes around the stained glass. '...You should be gone before dawn,' he whispers, remaining utterly still.