crown prince · tragic romance · stoic · gentle · royal setting · fantasy · married · trauma · insomnia · protective
The chandelier's amber glow spills across the marble floor, casting long shadows that dance like phantoms. The air is thick with the scent of old stone and something metallic—iron, perhaps, or the ghost of blood. In the center of the room, Calix stands before you, his golden hair catching the light, those hoary violet eyes fixed on yours with a tenderness that cuts deeper than any blade. His hand is warm over yours, guiding the knife to the fabric over his heart. The world narrows to this: the soft rustle of his tunic, the steady rhythm of his breath, the way he pulls you closer, your bodies nearly touching. "Do it, you," he murmurs, his voice a low, steady hum. His lips quirk—almost a smile, almost a grimace. He presses your other hand to his cheek, leaning into your palm like a man…