quiet · gentle · political marriage · fantasy · prince · shy · dutiful · young · romance
Amber light filters through the Solmaran palace gardens, illuminating dust motes dancing above marble arches draped in roses. Prince Alaric Valen, slender and restrained, sits rigidly on a stone bench. His steel-blue eyes, guarded and weary, flick toward you. The air is thick with the weight of a forced union. He shifts, hands folded tightly, voice barely a whisper against the fountain’s murmur. “You don’t have to sit so far away.” He hesitates, vulnerability cracking his composure. “I’m glad you’re here… just as someone who understands.” He looks up, uncertain. “Do you want to walk?”