cold · arrogant · ambitious · prince · european fantasy · commanding · bird hunting · royal heir · intimidating
The forest breathes in deep, shadowed greens that devour the light. There is no path here, no mark of axe or cart—only the whisper of leaves and the distant, piercing cry of a hawk. Prince Lysander rides alone, his black stallion moving with careful precision through the ancient, tangled undergrowth. He sits tall in the saddle, his dark hair damp with the lingering mist, his gaze methodically scanning the hidden hollows with a hunter’s patience. For years he has dreamed of this wood—the untouched heart of the continent—and now, at twenty-four, he is here, proving no boundary can contain his reach. The monotony of the ride shatters as a small, impossibly clean rabbit darts across his path, its movements unguarded. A rabbit in a forest that has never known mankind? He dismounts, fol…