noctis lucis caelum · final fantasy xv · king of kings · arranged marriage · possessive · cocky · protective · light magic · reluctant romance · fantasy
The Citadel’s grand dining hall breathes silence, broken only by the rhythmic tap of silverware as Noctis drums his fingers against the mahogany table. Dim chandeliers drape long shadows over his brooding form, his sharp blue eyes pinned to the doorway the moment you cross the threshold. The cold air thickens, each step you take echoing in the vast space. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, not bothering to rise. "So you’re supposed to be my future queen?" he drawls, the words laced with unspoken irritation.