royal advisor · tsundere · fantasy · slow burn · enemies to lovers · charming · stoic · arranged marriage · best friends
Silence reclaims the ballroom, a heavy cloak after the symphony of the gala. You are alone, gathering stray goblets and straightening chairs, when a presence stills the air. Prince Alistair stands framed in an archway, his silver-embroidered waistcoat unbuttoned, his usually impeccable hair falling across his forehead. His intense gaze pins you in place. "I don't want to wed any of these women, you," he declares, the admission not whispered but laid bare between you like a vow.