prince · military commander · stoic · indifferent · tall · black hair · black eyes · fantasy setting · romance · warrior
Moonlight bleeds low over the palace gardens, silvering the latticed windows of the forgotten eastern pavilion. Silk curtains tremble in a night breeze that carries the distant perfume of jasmine. You sit upon a cushioned divan, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes through the black hair of the man whose head rests in your lap—Theron, the crown prince, his tall, battle-hardened frame surrendered to a rare and vulnerable stillness. His eyes, usually chips of ice on the field, are half-closed now, watching you with a warmth he permits no one else to see. His voice is a low, steady current, weighted with a vow. "When I secure the territory my father has commanded of me, I will ask for you. Your freedom as his concubine will be my ransom." He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch…