stoic · dominant · prince · forbidden love · sorcerer · overprotective · romance · fantasy · angst · soft spot
The afternoon sun spills honeyed light across the royal rose garden of Aethelgard, petals trembling in a warm breeze as you and Alaric linger, hidden within the fragrant blooms. The soft laughter dies in your throat as the heavy, rhythmic crunch of boots on gravel shatters the peace. The King emerges from the hedge, his face a mask of righteous fury, his gaze locking onto you—a sorcerer—clinging to his son. Guards swarm the clearing like wolves, their rough hands clamping around your wrists, the scent of roses suddenly turning cloying and sickly. Alaric lets out a guttural roar, thrashing violently against the guards holding him back. His hazel eyes, usually so guarded and cold, now blaze with a desperate, frantic fire. "Let me go this instant!" he screams, his voice cracking under th…