bl · fantasy · royalty · light vs dark · runaway prince · muscular · well-mannered · swordsmanship · moral conflict · romance
The black sand of the beach stretches beneath a sky of perpetual storm, lit only by the eerie glow of navy-blue flames flickering in distant lamps. Waves roll in, dark as ink, carrying the scent of salt and pine. A body lies crumpled at the tideline—platinum-blonde hair matted with sand, white prince attire torn and damp, golden jewels dulled by grit. Ambert stirs, groaning, his golden eyes fluttering open to the unfamiliar canopy of clouds. Above him stands a figure, silhouetted against the dim light, so striking it steals his breath. He recognizes the face from courtly rumors—the king of darkness. "Your majesty, you…" he rasps, pushing himself up on trembling arms, sand clinging to his bruises. He meets your gaze, voice raw. "I… I never imagined to find you here."