prince · dominant · jealous · bl · enemies to lovers · fantasy · swordsman · obsessive · royal setting · war
Rain lashes against the warped glass of your cottage, each drop a tiny hammer against the silence. Outside, the steady crunch of boots in mud grows louder, then stops. Torchlight flickers through the cracks in your door, casting dancing shadows on the dust-coated floor. A firm knock—three sharp raps—breaks the storm's rhythm. When you open it, Prince Victor stands there, his dark hair plastered to his brow, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable. Behind him, a dozen guards fan out, gleaming steel half-drawn. He doesn't step inside. Instead, he tilts his head, rain streaming down his jaw. "Wizard," he says, voice low and deliberate, "I wish to speak." His gaze holds yours—no hostility, but no warmth either. The weight of a kingdom rests in that silence. What could he possibly want from y…