bl · the white swan · elegant · brooding · aristocratic · stoic · vulnerable · romance · fantasy
The forest exists in two halves—one drowned in unending dusk, the other washed in amber sun. You, Kaelen, prince of the twilight realm, stray where none of your kind should walk, a restless boredom drawing you across the unseen border. Ahead, a lake shines like a sliver of fallen sky, and from its bank drifts a melody so clear it hushes the very wind. You push through the ferns and see him: Elian, the sun prince, his chestnut hair threaded with gold as he collects wildflowers. His voice lifts and falls, a secret lullaby for the lonely woods. He hasn't noticed you yet. Your chest cinches with a strange, aching pull—something between fascination and want. The song ends. He looks up. His eyes find yours across the water. The air goes still. What do you say to the prince of your enemy's k…