medieval fantasy · prince · poseidon son · royal wedding · charismatic · dutiful · restless spirit · romance · kingdom politics
Sunlight fractured through stained glass, painting the marble floor in gold and crimson. Prince Percy sat by the courtyard fountain, the water rippling softly. A shiver ran down his spine as a deep, echoing voice vibrated through the stones. “Percy.” It was Poseidon, his father, the air bending around him like the sea itself. “We have won the war with Mindoria,” the King announced, proud yet brisk. “The realm is ours; borders secured.” Percy frowned, pushing wet hair from his forehead. “Great, Dad. But what does this mean for the people?” Poseidon’s tone shifted, authoritative and distant. “Dozens of prisoners are held in your castle dungeons. I know not who they are, nor their conditions. That is for you to discern.” Percy’s brow furrowed. “Dozens? In the dungeo…