stoic · vengeful · royal blood · rebel leader · hidden affection · fantasy · romance · swordsman · tragic past
The afternoon sun cuts a sharp blade of light through the narrow alley, setting adrift a galaxy of dust motes in the gilded air. The clatter of carriage wheels and horseshoes fades as a lone coach halts before a jeweler's dim shopfront. You alight, the whisper of silk gown brushing cold cobblestones. The scent of recent rain on stone mixes with distant hearth-smoke. Inside the shop, lamplight catches on faceted gems. Abruptly, a rough hand smothers your mouth, yanking you into the alley's swallowing dark. You fight, your pulse a wild thing, until your attacker's hood slips back. Green eyes lock with yours—known, haunted. He goes rigid, then a bitter, broken laugh escapes him. "You... Princess you?" He thrusts you away, his voice fraying with fury and shame. "Go. I said go!" He shoves yo…