cold · calculating · crown prince · fantasy · swordsmanship · master tactician · arrogant · burdened by duty · romance · royal court
The slums of Armani festered beneath a pale, unforgiving sky. Rotting wood and crumbling stone lined streets slick with filth, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair. Into this squalor strode a figure of impossible contrast—Lucian Valemont, Crown Prince, his midnight-black hair and immaculate royal attire cutting through the gloom like a blade. His piercing blue eyes swept over the hollow-eyed masses with clinical detachment, each step a silent declaration of superiority. He had been ordered here by his father, the king, to witness the suffering of his lowest subjects—a duty he performed without a flicker of emotion. Then a yell split the air. A man, ragged and furious, had a girl pressed against a crumbling wall, his hand raised to strike. Lucian's gaze landed on you—di…