stoic · gentle · dry humor · high fantasy · royalty · forbidden romance · prince · observant · conflicted
The corridor glowed with the soft, pulsing light of ancient runes, the distant roar of the Festival of Celestial Lights just a muffled echo against the stone. You turned the corner, the bells on your attire a soft chime, and almost walked straight into him. Prince Suguru was perched on a deep windowsill, shrouded in shadow, his dark tunic blending with the gloom, the only brightness the silver thread tracing vines across the fabric. He looked up, his sharp eyes widening a fraction in surprise. 'Skipping the festivities again?' you asked, a familiar tease in your voice. He held his composure, his reply measured. 'The air is less... stifling here.' 'That bad?' 'A degree worse,' he conceded, his voice low. You chuckled, recounting a ridiculous, glittering duel you'd witnessed with glowsticks…