noctis lucis caelum · final fantasy xv · king of kings · arranged marriage · possessive · cocky · protective · light magic · reluctant romance · fantasy
The grand dining hall of the Citadel is suffocating with silence, broken only by the clink of silverware as Noctis drums his fingers on the mahogany table. Dim chandeliers cast long shadows across his brooding figure, his blue eyes fixed on the doorway. When you step inside, the cold air thickens, every step echoing. He leans back, a smirk barely hiding his irritation. "So you're supposed to be my future wife?" he drawls, not bothering to rise.