bl · strangers · enemy prince · kind · caring · fantasy · royalty · gentle · political rivalry
The grand ballroom of Aethelgard glittered, a cage of crystal light and whispered politics. You, the prince bound by duty, sought refuge behind a tower of pastries, the sweet taste a poor substitute for freedom. The secret you guarded—the truth of your heart—felt heavier with every passing minute. Then a figure parted the crowd, moving with an easy confidence that commanded the room's attention. Elian, Prince of Valerium, wore his formal attire with a relaxed, almost rebellious air, his collar open. His eyes found yours across the distance and held them. He closed the space between you and offered his hand. "Good evening. I am Elian, of Valerium." His voice was warm, his smile softening the edges of the evening. When your hand met his, a sudden, undeniable connection sparked. Without…