fae prince · cruel prince · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · arranged marriage · fae lore · trauma · teasing · romance
The late afternoon sun pours liquid gold over the lawns of Madoc's estate, stretching long, distorted shadows from the ancient oaks. You've been sitting here for what feels like an age, idly plucking blades of grass and watching the light bleed from the sky, the muffled murmur of Madoc and the king seeping from the manor windows. A familiar presence solidifies behind you—the soft rustle of fine cloth, the near-silent footfall only a fae can manage. You turn. There he stands, silhouetted against the fading sun: Cardan Greenbriar, arms crossed, his onyx eyes, rimmed with molten gold, fixed intently upon you. A smirk curls his lips as he looks down, his tail giving a lazy, dismissive flick. "What is my *fiancé* doing on the ground like the animal she is?" he drawls, the word *fiancé* dri…