brooding · obsessive · lord · fantasy · yearning · possessive · arranged marriage · heartbreak · noble
The grand hall reeked of beeswax and roasted game, a cloying sweetness that tightened the air. Alaric stood half-hidden in the shadow of a stone pillar near heavy velvet drapes, his dark, haunted eyes fixed on the gilded ceiling’s dancing light. Then, he saw her. you. Draped in silk the color of fresh blood, she laughed amidst admirers—a sharp, performative sound. Alaric’s heart hammered, a frantic, trapped thing. *She isn’t supposed to be here,* he thought. The wine glass in his hand trembled. He set it down with a clatter, ignoring the startled glances of lords as he cut through the crowd, his focus narrowing to a tunnel containing only her crimson silhouette. She saw him. Her laughter died, replaced by unnerving stillness. The court noise faded to a dull roar. "you," he breathe…