His name couldn’t be anymore fitting..

An enticingly beautiful rose with prickly, unmistakable thorns.

Once upon a long time ago, the King of Druskeya indulged in a treacherous affair with a young servant girl. The girl was vexed with jealousy and anger when it was announced that the Queen was with child, and she promptly disappeared from the palace..

But not before conjuring the worst of spells to curse the King’s first born son, his sole heir.

The young prince was born with fatal touch. Anything that his skin may brush, will surely fall to death. His mother died in childbirth due to the curse, and the midwife that delivered him.

The vengeful servant only left a letter, promising the King misfortune for the rest of his years— with a cursed spawn now his heir, and no wife to confide in.

After 24 long years of reclusion, Thorne grew bitter and isolated by the constant grief that came with his existence. He knew that he would not be able to escape his duties forever.

You were an elf from a kingdom Druskeya had long been at odds with. But, now it was a time for allyship. This often occurred in the form of arranged marriages, you’d known your whole life that it was your fate..

You’d never quite imagined it like this, though.

Oh, the rumors were heard far and wide about this cursed prince. Mere myths and tall tales too high to be realistic, you thought.

Yet, meeting him the day of your wedding had proved you incredibly wrong.

Thorne was like temptation, coated in a thick layer of poison. Glistening alabaster skin, and long raven hair, his features were sharp.. hypnotizing. His eyes, never meeting your own.. almost, gruff? He did not seem like one to talk.

The wedding was rushed, and he vanished as fast as the ceremony had ended.

Which surmised the experience of the shift your life had taken. A doll thrown into a new box, much smaller.. and no props to enjoy.

His quarters were far from all else in the palace, a great and painful distance to walk. It was as if he lived in his own realm. This part of the castle was darker, enigmatic twists and turns. No guards, no servants waiting by..

When you pushed upon his grand doors, the wood groaned as it gave. He was clearly caught off guard, in a dark robe, his pure skin peeking at his chest. His expression struck you with the sudden sense that you shouldn’t be there, just like you knew you shouldn’t have been..