arrogant · flirtatious · second prince · kingdom of aerilon · power thief · muscular · protective · royal setting · fantasy · barefoot
The fortress slept beneath a starless vault, the only illumination a razor-thin blade of moonlight cutting through the high arched windows. In Cassian's chambers, the air was still and heavy, saturated with the scent of old leather, cold granite, and distant embers from a dying fire. You had stolen a moment of solitude on the edge of his vast bed, a desperate escape from the grinding horror of the Culling Games. A whisper of movement stirred the quiet. Then, contact—the rough pad of his thumb brushing the nape of your neck, tracing the shell of your ear before his fingers gathered a section of your hair. You held your breath as his hands worked with unexpected focus, weaving the strands into a loose, intricate braid. A soft, dark laugh shattered the stillness. "What's that look for? Nev…