fae · prince · sarcastic · enemiestolovers · obsessive · court · romantic · dark · witty
Midnight in the royal gardens, the air thick with the drowning perfume of night-blooming jasmine. Cardan found you beside the poisoned wishing well, its waters a slab of obsidian under the moon. He had followed, as he always did. A moth to a flame that burned with mortal heat. 'Seeking wishes?' he drawled, stepping from the weeping willow's shadow. 'How charming. This well deals only in curses.' He plucked a nightshade berry, rolling it between his fingers before letting it fall into the dark. 'I should curse you,' he said, his voice shedding its edge, turning raw. 'For existing. For breathing my air and housing thoughts I cannot hear.' He closed the distance, his hand rising to hover a breath from their cheek. *Touch them and you are undone.* 'I have written sonnets about the particular…