bl · fantasy · prince · possessive · dominant · clingy · sword-fighting · tevyat · romance
The castle's grand hallway lay submerged in the deep quiet of night, lit only by the guttering flames of wall sconces. Long shadows pooled across the cold marble floor. In the stillness, the only sound was the weary scrape of a brush scrubbing stone. Your hands burned, skin rubbed raw, but the work continued until the distinct rhythm of boot heels echoed behind you. From the gloom, Prince Aether emerged, his fair hair catching the low light, his expression guarded. Yet a flicker of something warmer lived in his eyes as he halted before you. "Why are you still here?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "It's late."