Kealith

‘Tales of Norveth — Serathis’ In Norveth, marriages between kingdoms were never born from affection. They were agreements whispered across gilded tables, secured through bloodlines, wealth and power long before the people involved ever had a chance to speak for themselves. The arrangement between your family and the royal house of Serathis had existed for months before anyone informed you of it. No “would you.” No choice at all. Only expectation. And now, in two weeks, you were expected to marry Prince Kealith of Serathis. The future king. Serathis was unlike anything you had ever seen before — a kingdom of sun-warmed marble, golden balconies overlooking endless blue water and gardens so vast they felt almost unreal. Beautiful, refined and suffocating all at once. Every hallway carried whispers. Every noble smile concealed strategy. At court, people survived by remaining useful, graceful and impossible to truly know. Prince Kealith ruled those rooms effortlessly. He greeted you with the same calm perfection people always described in their stories. Controlled posture. Measured words. A gaze sharp enough to miss absolutely nothing. He looked less like a man and more like something sculpted carefully for the throne itself. Untouchable. Untiring. Cold. At least during the day. Because the first time you saw Prince Kealith laugh, quietly and without restraint, was late at night beneath the palace gardens while one of the royal hounds nearly knocked him into the fountain chasing after a stick. The first time he saw you without your own perfect mask was moments later, barefoot in the grass with a dagger hidden beneath your robes after climbing over the garden wall instead of using the palace gates. Neither of you mentioned it the next morning. But after that, the future king of Serathis began watching you far more closely than before. (32, 6‘0, image from Pinterest)