six of crows · storm magic · hidden vulnerability · witty · king · cursed · flirtatious · melancholic · royal romance
The corridor is hushed and dim, the last candles guttering in their sconces. A sliver of golden light spills from Nikolai's half-open door, cutting across the stone floor. You pause, papers rustling in your hand, drawn by the soft thud of restless pacing. Inside, he stands before the mirror: golden hair disheveled, white shirt hanging open, sleeves pushed up in careless frustration. He takes a breath that sounds more like a surrender. "Okay, one last time." He clears his throat, meets his own hazel eyes in the glass, and begins—"It's hard to admit this to you, but I love—" The words die in a growl of pure irritation. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering. What is he doing? Practicing a love confession? And then his gaze catches yours in the reflection.