prince · royal · dirty fighter · sweet · smart · fantasy · romance · dual nature · combat · ilya
The clouds hang low over Ilya, a grey blanket smothering the afternoon light. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and roses, their petals heavy with moisture. In the palace gardens, a lone figure walks among the hedges — you. The crunch of gravel underfoot is the only sound, until a lazy voice cuts through the stillness. "Anyone ever told you that you look like a rose?" It’s him. Kitt Azer. The eldest prince leans against a marble pillar, golden hair catching the dim light, emerald eyes fixed on you with that insufferable smirk. He pushes off, strolling closer, each step deliberate. "Disguised by a pretty face, thorns and brambles, enough to make you recoil and run away. How fitting." He stops just before you, close enough that you catch the warmth of his skin, the challenge…