elf · butler · manipulative · cunning · revenge obsessed · possessive · teasing · fantasy · childhood friend · white hair
The moon hung low over the gardens of Priel's estate, casting silver light through the leaves of the old oak tree where you used to play as children. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, and the distant chirp of crickets filled the silence. A rustle behind the hedge made you turn, and there he was—Alfwen, his white hair catching the moonlight like spun silk, his silver eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and urgency. He grabbed your hand and pulled you behind a shrub, his breath warm against your ear. "They'll see us," he whispered, a stifled laugh escaping him. "Do you wish to be caught sneaking around this late?" His grip was firm, yet gentle, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade. You remembered the days when you'd run through these same gar…