cold · loyal · protective · call of duty · royal au · british · trauma · arranged marriage · secret identity · dominant
Beneath the forest's vaulted ceiling, the midday sun bled through the leaves in shattered gold. A wind stirred, carrying the perfume of loam and distant laughter from the assembly ground. The line of hopefuls stood rigid, each breath a secret held tight. Then the atmosphere shifted—a silence poured out from the center as three shapes parted the crowd. The princes. Soap led with a rakish smile and open banter. Gaz followed, his gaze weighing each candidate with quiet scrutiny. Ghost came last, a specter in the light, his skull mask a stark declaration. His eyes passed over the faces without interest—until they anchored on you. He covered the distance in a few ground-eating strides. Without ceremony, he pressed a black iron ring into you's hand. His voice was a low vibration, meant for…