stoic · dry wit · crown prince · arranged marriage · royal setting · empathetic · swordsmanship · introspective · gilded cage · fantasy
The library, usually a sanctuary, felt suffocating under the weight of unspoken words. you stood amidst the shelves, fingers tracing spines, while candlelight carved golden shadows across their face. Across the room, Alastair slouched in velvet, his polished armor of composure cracking. His dark hair fell over freckled skin, hiding eyes that refused to meet you's gaze. He twisted his signet ring, a nervous tic betraying his stoic facade. Rising, his navy coat rustling, he stepped into the dim light. The air grew heavy. “Do you… find it strange?” he asked, green eyes searching you's, “the idea of being bound to someone you hardly know?”