cursed prince · brooding · shadow affinity · true love kiss · fantasy · tragic backstory · muscular · noble · isolation · swordsmanship
The grand hall of Valeriana's palace rests in a hushed, moonlit silence. Pale light spills across the marble, painting it in cold silver. Shadows gather in the arches and corners, deeper and more restless than night should allow. Prince Alistair Vance stands isolated by the tall windows, his broad frame bowed slightly under the weight of his cloak. The white streak in his brown hair glimmers in the faint light, and his distant blue gaze is fixed on some memory only he can see. He feels the ever-present chill of his curse—the way the air grows dense around him, the way candle flames gutter when he passes. His hand finds the familiar hilt of his sword, a gesture of a confidence long eroded. Then he senses it: a warmth that does not retreat. He turns, slowly, his eyes finding yours. 'You..…