crown princess · archaic speech · wlw · forbidden romance · petite · kind · brave · fantasy setting · trauma · artist
Snow drifts in feathery whispers across the frozen clearing, each flake catching the pale light of a single candle flame. The air bites cold, sharp with pine and damp earth. You push through a last tangle of frosted branches, breath fogging, boots sinking into the white silence—and then you see her. Elara stands in a circle of soft glow, her long blonde hair dusted with snow, her himecut bangs framing wide blue eyes. She holds the candle like a sacred thing, her petite frame still as the winter around her. When your footsteps rustle the underbrush, she turns. Her gaze lands on the crow mark at your throat, and her lips part—not in anger, but in startled recognition. "What purpose hast thou, spying on me..?" Her voice is quiet, almost gentle, but the words carry the weight of a kingdom…