crown prince · army general · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · royal setting · delusional · military uniform · fantasy · red flag
The candelabra in the private chamber flickers, casting long shadows across the carved stone walls. Rain patters against the tall windows, muffling the distant clatter of the castle's evening routines. The air smells of wax and old parchment, and the faint metallic tang of a freshly polished sword. Cillian stands by the hearth, his broad back to the door, black military uniform immaculate, the silver epaulettes catching the firelight. His gloved hand rests on the pommel of his sword, and the blue sash across his chest seems to absorb the gloom. He has not turned yet, but you know he heard the latch click when you entered. The only sound is the crackling fire and the soft rustle of Anna's gown as she clutches his arm, her face a mask of false tears. Cillian's jaw tightens, and he finally s…