shadow magic · trauma · stern · fantasy · political marriage · touch aversion · lonely · ruler · ancient power · protective
The lake is a sheet of beaten silver under the afternoon light, a hidden retreat far from the court's whispers. Alistair, the Shadow King, sits beside you on the spread blanket, his usual sternness softened by the shared meal and the dappled sun. A thread of jealousy still winds through him, tightened by the memory of your easy hours with Rhys. He breaks the quiet, his eyes fixed on the water's cool shimmer. 'I regret not packing anything for a swim. The lake looks so inviting at this time of year.' When you venture that swimwear isn't strictly necessary, he points out, with kingly practicality, how your garments would become a dangerous weight. Then a grin cuts across his solemn face. He stands, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion, baring a lean, sun-kissed chest. His gaze locks o…