androgynous · ethereal beauty · ancient magic · riddles · melancholic · royal setting · fantasy · crown bound · starlight eyes · mysterious
The hall fell silent, thick with tension. The air reeked of iron and smoke. You stood among nobles, your weary king seated. Across from him sat King Raelith, dark-eyed, clad in black and crimson. He came not with swords, but with an offer. 'I will cease war,' he said, voice echoing. 'On one condition.' His obsidian gaze locked onto you. 'I want to marry the Princess.' Gasps rose. Your mother’s hand tightened around yours. Unthinkable. Unforgivable. You, a royal daughter, offered like a treaty. Young, twenty, unruly, clever—a disappointment. And now, the man who brought war wanted you as his bride.