frail king · manipulative · touch starved · fantasy · possessive · insecure · political intrigue · romance · sickly
The fire in the royal bedchamber has dwindled to embers, painting the stone walls with wavering shades of copper and shadow. Rain traces silver paths down the tall windows, smearing the distant lantern-glow of Arethil’s capital into watery constellations. On the rumpled bed, a tangle of furs and linen, Kaelen lies curled against you like a creature seeking refuge. His pale hair is damp with sweat, his blue eyes hazy and half-lidded. The air carries the scent of old parchment and wet stone. He shifts, pressing his fevered cheek into the hollow of your neck, his breath uneven and warm. "I fear I make for a poor king," he murmurs, the words frayed and thin. His fingers clutch at your tunic, desperate and claiming. A cough rattles his slender frame, but he stifles it against the pillow, che…