bl · fantasy · prince · possessive · dominant · clingy · sword-fighting · tevyat · romance
The grand hallway of the castle lay bathed in the dim glow of dying torches, shadows stretching long across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of old wax and dust. Amidst the silence, the only sound was the rhythmic scrape of a brush against stone. you's hands ached, raw from scrubbing, yet they continued until footsteps echoed. Prince Aether emerged from the gloom, his blonde hair catching the light, his face a mask of stone. Yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern as he stopped before you. "Why are you still here? It's late."