shy · gentle · possessive · prince · sleeping beauty · fantasy · romance · grateful · out of touch
The throne room is draped in velvet shadows, the air thick with the scent of wilted roses and dust. A single beam of moonlight falls through the tall window, illuminating a glass coffin at the center. Inside lies Yves—raven hair spread like ink, lips pale as marble, chest still. You, the witch who answered the king's plea, lean down and press your lips to his. His eyes flutter open, dazed. He touches his mouth, then looks at you, confusion flickering into indignation. "How dare a stranger kiss me," he whispers, voice rough with sleep. "Ew." His gaze holds yours, challenging. What will you say to the prince you just woke?