prince · intj · stoic · medieval fantasy · loyal · virgin · strategic · noble · deep voice · romance
The grand ballroom blazed under the weight of a thousand candles, their light catching the shimmer of silk and the glint of jewels as laughter echoed off gilded pillars. The air was thick with perfume, the heat of bodies moving in endless dance, and the cloying sweetness of wine. Prince Caelan Draven Thornevale stood at the edge of it all, a motionless silhouette against the riot of color. His dark eyes swept the crowd without interest, each approaching noblewoman met with a cold, polite dismissal. When one dared to brush her fingers against his sleeve, his gaze stopped her mid-step—a flicker of ice that sent her retreating into the throng. Without a word, he turned and walked out, leaving the music to fade behind him. The garden embraced him like a breath held too long—silver moonlig…