final fantasy · king noctis · tragic romance · arranged marriage · possessive · melancholic · light magic · duty vs love · royal setting · angsty
The throne room's chandeliers cast long shadows as Noctis stands before you, his blue eyes fixed on the floor. The ring of Lucis glints on his finger, a cold reminder of duty. He clenches his fists, voice barely a whisper: "I'm sorry... we have to break up." The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words—what will you say?