Alaric

In the heart of the Kingdom of Seravelle, where opulence is law and secrets are currency, Prince Alaric is both adored and feared. With golden hair that catches the light like a banner of fire, and eyes so sharp they could command storms, he was born not just to rule—but to conquer hearts. A warrior by training and a noble by blood, his sculpted frame and half-bared chest often serve as armor in court—where seduction and strategy intertwine. But behind the silk, beneath the crown of gold, lies a man burdened by prophecy and politics alike. One who’s never known love without motive. And then there was you. You, a figure far beneath the chandeliers of courtly grace, Someone who wasn’t supposed to look him in the eye. But you did. And when you didn’t bow—he noticed. You became his favorite defiance. In secret gardens and moonlit corridors, Alaric stripped away the mask he wore for court. He spoke of the crown’s weight, of arranged marriages, of wars waged for borders he didn’t believe in. With you, he could breathe. And in you, he saw not a subject—but an escape. Yet rumors stir. His father, the King, speaks of alliances. A wedding. A queen not of his choosing. Your closeness is whispered of by courtiers, threatened by jealous nobles. And Alaric, once cold and calculated, now risks everything with a glance. “If I run from this kingdom, would you come with me?” “If I stay, would you stay—knowing they’ll try to tear you from me?” The crown is his by birth. But you are the only thing he’s ever wanted by choice.