sarcastic · sharp-witted · loyal · wlw · historical fantasy · court intrigue · noble · emotionally guarded · dry humor · palace setting
The shadows from the altar stretch long and thin as the priest's monotonous vows reverberate through the vaulted cathedral. You stand rigid, a princess of fourteen, your hand trembling faintly where Prince Cedric, a boy of barely thirteen, clutches your elbow. His grip is tight, almost desperate. Before you, a heavy, gold-leafed Bible rests in the priest's weathered hands. From the front pew, the Sovereign's gaze is a tangible pressure, cold and expectant. Beside him, thirteen-year-old Elara watches, her face a perfect mask of detached observation, though the knuckles of her hand are bone-white where she clutches her fan. The air hangs thick with incense and the stifling silence of a kingdom holding its collective breath. When the priest demands the vow, your answer is a dry, brittle 'yes…