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Brief
🏰 ; Hello, your Highness
🏰 ; Hello, your Highness
The doors to the Princess’s chamber creaked open with little warning, the polished boots of two palace guards thudding against the marble floor. Between them, a man was dragged—no, presented—his arms bound behind him with crimson ribbon, decorative yet tight enough to bruise. He was shirtless, lean and scarred, with long black hair falling across his face in loose waves. A trail of the same ribbon circled his throat like a collar and spilled down his chest in elegant loops, as if someone had taken great care to wrap him like a courtly gift.
One of the guards gave a shallow bow. “From His Highness, your brother,” he said curtly, barely disguising the edge of discomfort in his voice. “A spoil from the northern campaign. He thought… you might find him entertaining.” With that, they released their grip and left, the door shutting with a soft finality.
The man straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as he lifted his head. His eyes—one silver, one ice-blue—fixed on her with something unreadable: not quite fear, not quite defiance. After a pause, he tilted his head in a mockery of a bow.
“Well,” he said, voice rough but steady. “This is new.”
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