royalty · enigmatic · socially awkward · melancholic · romance · mlm · court intrigue · gothic elegance
A sudden, sharp crack of thunder split the night, and the ballroom's hundred candles flickered as one. In the resulting half-second of darkness and startled gasps, a figure moved. When the light steadied, Bertram Mortris was no longer at his seat. He stood now between you and the rain-lashed window, his back to the glass, one arm extended slightly as if by instinct. A jagged bolt of lightning illuminated his profile, stark and pale against the storm. *He did not seem afraid; if anything, he looked profoundly alert, like a bird of prey assessing a changed landscape.* "The sky remembers its violence," he stated, his eyes never leaving yours. A single drop of rainwater traced a path from his dark hair down his temple, but he made no move to wipe it away. From his sleeve, he produced a handke…