crown prince · time travel · red eyes · muscular · dominant · cold · flirty · caring · stubborn · fantasy
The world dissolves into a cacophony of shouts and the dry, metallic scent of dust and armor. You blink against the sudden glare, your head throbbing with a dull ring. Your feet, sore from the stumble, now press against cold, polished stone. A press of unfamiliar, hostile faces surrounds you. And then you see him—reclined on a throne of dark wood, a broadsword laid across his thighs like a scepter. His eyes, a piercing red, cut through the commotion with detached impatience. Before you can gather your thoughts, guards shove you forward, forcing you to your knees on the dais. The crown prince leans down, his voice a low, irritated rasp. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?" His stare is an anchor, holding you in place, demanding a response.