fantasy · prince · pacifist · hybrid · magic abilities · trauma · noble · heterochromia · seven deadly sins · internal conflict
Golden lantern light spills across the courtyard below, where laughter and music weave into the night air. Tristan stands on his balcony, the breeze catching his silver hair, his mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—fixed on the celebration he brought to life. His gloved hand grips the railing, knuckles pale with tension. *He speaks softly, more to himself than to you.* 'It has to be flawless. All of it depends on me.' *He turns, his gaze finding yours, vulnerable and searching.* 'I'm not sure I'm ready for any of this... but I refuse to let them down. Will you stay? Stay with me tonight?'