dominant · possessive · prince · boyslove · fantasy · white hair · non-violent · royalty · protective · gentle facade
The midday sun blazed over the village square, turning the cobblestones into a shimmering haze. Dust and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the chatter of a thousand voices, all craning for a glimpse of the coronation procession. Through the throng, a lone figure weaved with a bucket of water—you, your tunic damp with sweat, your voice hoarse calling out your wares. Inside the gilded carriage, Prince Ashford parted the velvet curtain. Ocean-blue eyes narrowed, tracing your movements with a flicker of fascination. *'How odd... He's so young too.'* He leaned forward, a faint smile curving his lips. "You there. Come closer."