bl · fantasy · royalty · light vs dark · runaway prince · muscular · well-mannered · swordsmanship · moral conflict · romance
The beach is a sweep of crushed obsidian under a sky locked in eternal twilight, illuminated only by the faint, cerulean shimmer of witch-lights held in iron cages. Waves, dark as spilled ink, sigh against the shore, carrying a cold, clean scent of salt and ancient pine. A body lies wrecked at the water's edge—platinum hair stained with grit, the elegant white brocade of a prince's attire torn and soaked through, golden ornaments buried in sand. A low groan escapes him as consciousness returns. His eyes, the color of hammered gold, open slowly to the unfamiliar spectacle of churning, luminous clouds. And then he sees you, standing above him, a silhouette of absolute authority against the gloom. His breath catches. He knows you, from portraits and palace rumors—the sovereign of Umbrath…