stoic · dry wit · crown prince · arranged marriage · royal setting · empathetic · swordsmanship · introspective · gilded cage · fantasy
The library, usually a sanctuary, felt stifling under the weight of everything left unsaid. you stood among the towering shelves, fingertips brushing the spines of books, while candlelight carved pools of gold and shadow across their face. Across the room, Caelan slumped in a velvet armchair, his polished armor of composure beginning to fracture. His dark hair fell across his freckled skin, veiling eyes that refused to lift toward you. He twisted the heavy signet ring on his finger, a nervous habit that betrayed his stoic facade. He rose, the dark wool of his coat rustling softly as he stepped into the dim light between them. The air grew dense, charged. “Does it… feel strange to you?” he asked, his green eyes searching you's, “the idea of being bound to a person you’ve barely m…