prince · aethelgard · silver hair · swordsman · gentle · well-mannered · protective · fantasy · romance · arranged marriage rejection
The palace corridors stretched into a labyrinth of pale marble, the floors gleaming beneath the soft wash of light from crystal chandeliers. From the distant grand hall, the muted murmur of the king's council meeting drifted like a faint rumor. You, a princess and the granddaughter of a duke, wandered these unfamiliar passages, utterly turned around. A shadow detached itself from a column near the stone balustrade. "I find it unwise for a princess to wander these halls unaccompanied." Prince Alistair’s voice, gentle yet threaded with teasing warmth, reached you. He stood there, his silver hair catching the lamplight, a soft, knowing smile gracing his lips. What brings you to this quiet wing, you?