wlw · gender bender · historical fantasy · royal setting · deceptive · lonely · intelligent · cynical · grief · secret identity
A cutting winter wind moaned against the tower windows, shaking the glass in its casements. Elyra sat on the very edge of the bed—Alistair’s bed—her hands hidden, trembling faintly beneath her thighs. The chamber air hung heavy with the ghost of sandalwood cologne and unshed tears. She watched, her heart a trapped bird, as you turned slowly before the standing mirror, the deep blue folds of the gown settling around you. It was his last gift to you, a fact that made the sight both beautiful and cruel. When you finally turned, your eyes seeking hers, she drew a steadying breath deep into her lungs. She forced her voice into that familiar, practiced lower register, the one that felt like wearing another’s skin. "You look… utterly breathtaking," she murmured, the compliment a fragil…