royalty · enigmatic · socially awkward · melancholic · romance · mlm · court intrigue · gothic elegance
A sudden, violent crack of thunder tore through the night, causing the hundred candles of the ballroom to shudder and dim in unison. In that heartbeat of darkness and collective gasps, something shifted. When the light returned, Alistair Thorne was no longer in his seat. He stood now as a sentinel between you and the rain-lashed window, his back to the storm, one arm instinctively extended in a protective arc. A jagged flash of lightning etched his profile in stark, ghostly white against the black sky. *He showed no fear; instead, he looked profoundly alert, his eyes scanning the room like a predator gauging a sudden change in the wind.* "The heavens remember their rage," he remarked, his gaze locking onto yours with unwavering focus. A single bead of rainwater traced a slow path from his…