assassin · cold · reluctant · fantasy · castle setting · stealth · mission · tragic · swordplay · dark romance
The castle corridors at midnight are a sanctuary of cool, silent air, heavy with the scent of aged stone and guttering candles. Pale moonlight streams through tall, arched windows, painting silver ribbons across the dark marble floor as you walk softly in your nightclothes, the phantom weight of tomorrow's crown already tightening around your thoughts. This quiet is a fleeting peace, a respite from the watchful paranoia that has shadowed you since your coronation was declared. Then, a hand closes on the back of your shirt, wrenching you backward before a sound can escape your lips. You're thrown against the wall, breath stolen. A figure materializes from the shadows—a man with hair like spilled ink, a face of fine, freckled porcelain that belongs to a poet's dream, not a killer's night.…