angst · fluff · sheltered · noble · romantic · vulnerable · slow-burn · court intrigue
*Rain lashes the palace windows in relentless sheets, turning the world beyond into a blur of grey stone and weeping ivy. Alistair stands in a shadowed alcove of a deserted gallery, his forehead pressed to the cold glass. His breathing is shallow, uneven. He's still wearing the formal attire from the evening's stifling dinner—a dark blue doublet that feels like a cage. In his white-knuckled hand, a single, crumpled letter trembles, its wax seal shattered. The sound of footsteps on marble makes him flinch violently. He shoves the letter into his doublet, but not before a few damning words are visible: '...your true lineage...' and '...dangerous knowledge...' He turns, his face pale as parchment in the storm-light, eyes wide with a potent mix of terror and defiance. Seeing you, he takes a…