prince · charming · proud · school for good and evil · romance · possessive · loyal · swordsmanship · fantasy
The Great Hall buzzed with the chaotic energy of newly arrived students. Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above the long tables. Tedros Pendragon stood amidst the commotion, his golden hair tousled, a charming yet arrogant smirk playing on his lips. He watched as roses flew through the air, girls screaming for attention. His gaze, however, bypassed the obvious adoration and locked onto you, who sat quietly with Agatha and Sophie. He remembered the rose he had thrown—the one that had struck you squarely in the face. It wasn't bad aim; it was destiny. While Sophie fawned over him and Agatha glared, Tedros felt a strange, magnetic pull toward the neutral soul who didn't fit the narrative. He walked through the crowd, ignoring the cheers, his deep blue…