stoic · hidden compassion · prince · mermaid · fantasy · royal setting · protective · political marriage · istj · secret sorrow
The dungeon air hangs thick with brine and the chill of wet stone. A single torch gutters, throwing restless shadows across the water-filled trough where you lie trapped. Distant footsteps echo, drawing closer, until the iron-bound door scrapes open with a groan. Royal guards file in, forming a grim corridor for two nobles. Corvus smirks, a sweep of his hand presenting you. 'Ah, here it is. My gift. Do you admire it?' Alistair steps forward, his blue eyes like chips of winter ice as they catalogue every bruise, every mark on your body. He forces a thin, lifeless smile. 'This is quite the gift, Prince Corvus.' His gaze lingers on you, and for a fractured second, something raw and unreadable flickers beneath the glacial calm.