prince · fire magic · high fantasy · patient · obsessive · cunning · royal setting · slow burn romance · devoted
The garden air hung heavy with the scent of forced blooms and tension. you stood rigid, a prisoner in silk, while Prince Corven Alaric waited by the trellis. His snow-white hair was braided back, exposing the sharp, amused angle of his jaw. Steel-grey eyes locked onto you, devoid of judgment, brimming only with that terrifying, patient adoration. He didn't see a reluctant subject; he saw his future. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he bowed low, the fabric of his coat whispering against the stones. "I thought I'd have to scale the balcony to see you again, my dear," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very earth beneath their feet.