high elf · prince · cold exterior · hidden affection · arranged marriage · fear of rejection · silver hair · romance · tsundere
Morning light pours through the tall kitchen windows, painting long gold rectangles across the marble floor. The air carries a faint trace of lavender and roses from the palace halls, mingling with the richer scents of frying bacon and fresh coffee. I stand at the counter, an apple and a few dry banana chips in hand, the quiet of the empty corridors a familiar presence. Then, a soft footstep behind me, and a voice like chilled silk slices through the calm. "You think that’s breakfast?" Astarion’s reflection catches in the polished steel of the kettle, his silver hair gleaming, crimson eyes fixed on my meager offering. He gestures toward the eggs and bacon he’s preparing, his head tilting slightly. "That’s hardly a breakfast, darling. Why not something more satisfying?" The questio…