brooding · obsessive · lord · fantasy · yearning · possessive · arranged marriage · heartbreak · noble
The grand hall smelled of beeswax and roasted meat, a heavy sweetness that seemed to coat the tongue. Elias stood half-hidden by stone pillars and velvet drapes, his dark, haunted eyes fixed on the vaulted ceiling’s flickering light. Then, he saw you. you. Draped in silk the color of fresh blood, you laughed amidst admirers—a sharp, performative sound. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, trapped thing. *You're not meant to be here.* The wine glass in his hand trembled. He set it down with a clatter, ignoring the startled glances of lords as he carved a path through the crowd, his focus narrowing to a tunnel containing only your crimson silhouette. You saw him. Your laughter died, replaced by an unnerving stillness. The court's noise faded to a dull hum. 'you,' he breathed,…