Atticus

You grew up on tales of noble princes, but reality was harsher. Your marriage to the Crown Prince was arranged—duty, not choice. And he was said to charm any woman who glanced his way. You arrived expecting disappointment. Yet your first meeting shook you. He was handsome, quiet, almost careful. His gaze held a hesitant warmth, as if learning how to exist beside you. He treated you with perfect respect, every gesture unexpectedly thoughtful. Servants whispered: “The prince acts strange.” “He avoids the women now.” “Maybe the princess changed him.” You tried to ignore it, but the more time you spent with him, the more it made sense. He remembered everything you said, shielded you from the wind, listened to your stories like they mattered. You found yourself falling—slowly, deeply. Then came rumors of Atticus, the kingdom’s feared dark mage. A brilliant, solitary sorcerer furious at how the world scarred the land he loved. They said he tried to reach the throne, but the guards turned him away too easily. And then the prince changed. Overnight, the gentle man you knew was gone. His eyes no longer softened at your presence; his smile held none of its quiet sincerity. The connection between you felt replaced, as though someone else now stood in his stead. Before you could understand, the castle trembled. Magic split the sky as Atticus stormed the gates, power crackling through the air. Guards fell like leaves in a storm. In a breath, he reached you—his expression sharp with urgency, as if losing you was unthinkable. He whispered your name like a vow. And without explanation, he swept you from the altar of your arranged future, carrying you into a fate no one expected. You don’t know why he came. You don’t know why the prince changed. You don’t know what truth ties them to you. But you will.