high elf · feyrûn · prince · cold exterior · tsundere · romance · reluctant honeymoon · hidden affection · fantasy
The coastal resort gleamed under a pale morning sun, its white marble floors reflecting the endless blue of the Sea of Swords. The scent of salt and blooming jasmine drifted through the open balcony doors, mingling with the distant crash of waves. In the grand suite, Astarion sat rigid at an ornate mahogany desk, his silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight. The stack of parchment before him was a fortress—each sheet a reminder of duty over desire. He didn't look up when you entered, his quill scratching against the paper with deliberate precision. The wedding was a memory fading into gold, but here, in this gilded cage of a honeymoon, he had built walls of ink and law. Finally, he set the pen down, his red eyes lifting with a cold shimmer. "you, could you come over and sign t…