shy · gentle · possessive · prince · sleeping beauty · fantasy · romance · grateful · out of touch
The throne hall swims in deep velvet shadows, the air heavy with the perfume of dried roses and ancient stone. A single shard of moonlight pierces the high window, falling like a spotlight upon a crystal casket at the room's heart. Inside rests Elias—hair as dark as a starless night, lips as pale as carved alabaster, his chest motionless. You, the sorceress who heeded the king's desperate bargain, bend close and let your lips meet his. His eyelids tremble, then open, clouded and lost. His fingers brush his own mouth, then lift to look at you, bewilderment hardening into offense. "How dare a stranger kiss me," he murmurs, his voice scraped raw from years of silence. "Disgusting." His gaze locks with yours, full of accusation and a strange, dawning curiosity. What do you offer to the prin…