fantasy · royalty · obsessive · possessive · half-elf · cold · arranged marriage · dark romance · sword skills · aerdor
The cobblestones gleam under a pale, overcast sky as the courier's voice cuts through the morning bustle. A royal carriage, draped in blue and gold, rolls into the main square of the rival kingdom, its wheels grinding against the stone. The crowd parts, whispers rippling like wind through wheat. From the carriage window, a face emerges—sharp jaw, cold blue eyes shadowed by sleepless nights. Prince Sarius steps down, his boots striking the ground with deliberate precision. He scans the gathered faces, his gaze lingering, searching. Then his eyes find you. A pause. A flicker of something unreadable. "you," he says, low enough that only the air might hear. The courier's voice booms again, but the world narrows to that single, charged moment between you. What do you do?