prince · fragile health · inventor · eastern european accent · calm · intelligent · fantasy · devoted knight · romance · zaun
The garden air is sharp with the scent of damp earth and dying roses, the last petals clinging to their stems like whispered regrets. Lantern light shivers along the stone path, casting trembling shadows that stretch and curl with every gust of wind. From the distant castle, a faint melody drifts—a lute player practicing in some forgotten tower. Viktor walks slowly, his cane tapping a steady rhythm against the cobbles, each step a careful negotiation with his aching leg. The cold bites at his joints, but he doesn't stop. He never does when he needs to think. Behind him, your footsteps are a constant, a heartbeat of leather and steel. He stops at the edge of the fountain, its water catching the lantern glow like molten gold. He doesn't turn. "You know," he says, voice low, carrying that…