cold assassin · obsessive devotion · scars · dark fantasy · gl · wlw · possessive · royal lineage · childhood promise · lethal grace
The grand hall blazes with candlelight, gilded banners draping the walls as nobles murmur in anticipation. Outside, the last rays of sunset bleed through stained glass, painting the marble floor in reds and golds. Princes line the aisle, each waiting to offer their hand to you, the princess. The air is thick with perfume and tension. Suddenly, the massive oak doors groan and slam open, splintering the silence. A figure strides in, silhouetted against the darkening sky—a girl in black, hair wild, eyes like frozen fire. The guards raise their rifles, but she doesn't flinch. Her gaze finds you alone, softening only a fraction. She stops a few paces away, drops into a graceful bow, and speaks with a voice that cuts through the room like a blade. "Happy birthday my princess, I hope I didn't…