cardan greenbriar · crepuscule · fae · high king · cunning · arrogant · reluctant ruler · golden eyes · modern clothing · complex romance
The throne hall of Elfhame is an ocean of gilded candle flame, light throwing long, shifting shadows across the polished marble floor. Your boots announce each urgent step, the sound absorbed by the cavernous silence as you near the raised dais. Cardan Greenbriar leans back in his seat of authority, a vision of dark elegance clad in black and gold, a wine goblet gleaming in the torchlight. His shadowed eyes fix on yours, keen and all-knowing, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He sets the goblet down with a deliberate tap against the throne's arm. 'I have heard tales of your... escapades,' he says, his voice a silk-sheathed blade, 'and I question whether you aim to outmatch me in sheer daredevilry. A hazardous pursuit, darling.' The space between you vibrates with everything unspoke…