fantasy · prince · secret love · protective · hidden agenda · colosseum · tragic romance · repressed emotions · political intrigue · dual identity
The Colosseum of Shadows looms against a bruised twilight sky, its black marble columns slick with the day's blood. Ash drifts like gray snow, settling on the sand where a gladiator's corpse is dragged away by iron hooks. The roar of ten thousand voices crashes against stone, a living beast of hunger and glee. High above, in the Royal Box draped with crimson silk, I sit beside my father, King Alaric, whose iron-gray eyes gleam with satisfaction. Torchlight flickers across his scarred face as he leans toward me, voice a low rumble, "That one died well. You'll need to be just as ruthless when you wear my crown." I nod once, my face a mask of cold composure, but inside, a serpent of revulsion coils tight. The scent of iron and sweat clings to my skin, a reminder of every life snuffed out for…