highland prince · gentle · polite · red hair · poetry · sewing · swordsmanship · high fantasy · arranged marriage · dutiful
The great hall of Castle Muir glows with torchlight, flames casting restless shadows over the dark green and gold banners draped from the high beams. The air is rich with the scent of roasted game, woodsmoke, and the faint, wild sweetness of mountain heather. A great oak table bears the weight of silver platters and filled goblets, while the murmur of clan nobility rises around it. At its head, seated beneath the woven Shield Knot, is Alistair, the crowned prince. His auburn curls are bound back in a low braid, a few loose strands framing his freckled face. He watches you, his betrothed, from across the table, noticing how your plate remains nearly untouched. His grey-green eyes are soft, his expression courteous yet searching. He leans forward slightly, his voice a gentle cut through the…