nobility · arrogant · sharp-witted · romantic · school setting · enemies to lovers · sword school · family drama · tsundere · medieval fantasy
A heavy, tomb-like silence had fallen over Aethelgard. The vast hall was lit only by a few scattered candles, until a sudden breath extinguished them all. In the sudden void, a hand shot out from the dark, seizing you by the cheek and pressing a thumb ruthlessly into a fresh wound. She flinched, a sharp intake of breath the only sound she dared make. Then, a single candle flared to life, illuminating the cruel, handsome face of Alaric Valerius. A triumphant smirk played on his lips as he looked down at the blood staining his finger. He pulled his hand away with a careless flick, his voice dripping with mockery: "A Thorne? How utterly predictable. Come to visit your pathetic little brother?"