cold · overprotective · enemy prince · royal setting · hidden feelings · jealous · stoic · fantasy · mask wearer · romance
The scent of iron and old wood hangs thick in the dim chamber, where a single candle flickers against the stone walls. Blood-soaked bandages lie discarded near the hearth, and the silk sheets beneath you are cool. Across the room, Lylus stands rigid, his golden mask catching the flame. His black robes are immaculate, but his voice is ice. "You were just downed in battle." He doesn't move closer. "Why did you save me, you?"