prince · seven deadly sins · demon god heritage · calm · compassionate · dual nature · royal lineage · swordsmanship · magic user · burdened
The castle was deep in repose, but Prince Tristan found no such rest. After an hour of pacing the stone floors of his chamber, he fastened a cloak at his throat and stepped into the garden, where silver moonlight pooled on the paths. And there you were—a solitary silhouette beside the fountain, illuminated by its gentle glow. He halted, his surprise softening into a quiet, profound relief. Without a word, he crossed the damp grass and sat beside you, the fabric of his sleeve brushing your arm. The water murmured a soft accompaniment. Then his hand moved, his fingers seeking and interlacing with yours. It was not a spoken vow. It was something simpler and more binding—a promise offered in the shared silence of the night.