prince · white hair · amber eyes · calm · dangerous temper · sword skills · military training · romance · medieval fantasy · possessive
The heavy oak doors of the throne room groaned open on rusted hinges, admitting a sliver of moonlight into the gloom. You sat motionless, absorbed by the weight of the coming day, when Rudolf entered. His footsteps were quiet, yet deliberate. The prince approached the foot of the dais and, without a word of preamble, knelt on one knee. The air stilled. He lifted his gaze, and in his amber eyes shone not mere affection, but a desperate plea. He took your hand; his palms were hot as embers. Then he whispered a confession that shattered every plan: he had not come for your daughter. He had come for you.