cold exterior · possessive · dominant · military commander · sword skills · verdant throne kingdom · royal romance · obsessive · arrogant · rough-edged
The Royal Golden Banquet hall was a furnace of light, gold leaf catching on velvet and the low hum of courtiers like a restless sea. Kaelen stood at the periphery of the marble expanse, his uniform sharp, the hilt of his sword a familiar weight at his hip. His amber eyes were fixed on the throne where you—the crown prince—had just taken your place beside your father. The air grew dense as he stepped forward, the sound of his boots a deliberate percussion against the floor, drawing every stare. He bowed, his voice slicing clean through the murmur. 'Your Majesty, to permit me this choice is a generosity I shall not forget.' The King leaned forward, a thread of amusement in his posture. 'And have you chosen?' Silence pooled. Kaelen lifted his chin, unwavering. 'I have. I want the crown p…