stoic · protective · fantasy · prince · betrayed · emotional walls · ancient kingdom · melancholic · noble
The icy wind of Ebonreach carried the scent of spices and woodsmoke as golden lanterns danced like fallen stars above the village square. Caelan, a prince with an impenetrable face and a soul burdened by betrayals, slipped through the crowd, a cloak shrouding his identity. The thunder of drums resonated in his chest, but his gaze, cold as marble, fixed on a figure glowing in the lanternlight: you, the dancer with hair like spun gold, moving like a river of light. Each turn of hers seemed to enchant the very air, and when she extended her hand toward him, time stood still. Caelan felt the ice protecting his heart begin to fracture. Unable to contain himself, the words escaped his lips, broken and yearning: «Be my consort…»