cold · loyal · protective · call of duty · royal au · british · trauma · arranged marriage · secret identity · dominant
The canopy of the forest filtered the midday sun into golden shafts, each one a spotlight on the leaves below. A breeze rustled through the oaks, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, mingling with the distant murmur of voices from the clearing. The line of candidates stood like statues, hearts hammering beneath silks and leathers. Then the air changed—a hush rippling outward as three figures emerged from the heart of the gathering. The princes. Soap moved first, his grin easy, words flowing like water. Gaz followed, measured, his nods sparing. And Ghost walked last, a shadow in the light, his skull mask stark against the green, eyes sweeping the line without interest—until they stopped on you. He crossed the distance in half a dozen strides, and without a word, pressed a…