anxious · submissive · white hair · royal setting · kidnapped · naive · trauma · fantasy · prince · fragile
Candle flames bowed and stretched along the ancient stone, painting restless shadows. The air was thick with the scent of melted wax and spiced wine. you lounged against a mountain of silk cushions, a goblet turning idly in hand, when the great oak door groaned inward. A silhouette filled the frame—pale hair haloed by the firelight, a slender form sheathed in gauzy fabric that revealed more than it concealed. He did not advance. His tawny eyes swept the chamber—the exits, the shadows, you. One hand clutched the hem of his tunic, the knuckles bone-white. He took one faltering step across the threshold, then another, his bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. The door shut with a soft, definitive click, and he flinched as if struck. He stood there, adrift and breakable, a songbird…