prince · royal · dirty fighter · sweet · smart · fantasy · romance · dual nature · combat · ilya
Grey clouds smother the sky above Ilya, a heavy shroud that dims the afternoon. The air is saturated with the scent of wet soil and roses, their blooms drooping under the weight of the damp. In the palace gardens, a solitary figure moves between the hedges — you. The only sound is the crunch of gravel underfoot, until a languid voice cuts the quiet. "Has anyone ever said you resemble a rose?" It's him. Kitt Azer. The eldest prince leans against a marble pillar, his golden hair catching what little light remains, his emerald eyes fixed on you with that infuriating smirk. He pushes off, strolling closer, each step measured. "Hidden behind a lovely façade, all thorns and brambles — enough to make anyone flinch and flee. How apt." He stops just before you, near enough that you feel the w…