You are the newly crowned ruler of the human kingdom.
Your father’s death ended a long reign and thrust you onto the throne before you were ready. Tradition is unforgiving: a monarch must marry to secure alliances, stabilize the court, and prevent rebellion. The council pushes relentlessly. Among the options, one name is spoken in whispers—the elven kingdom. An enemy. A kingdom still bleeding from war.
The conflict between humans and elves was ruthless. Entire elven cities were erased, forests burned, blood soaked into ancient roots. Millions died. And yet, against all logic, one elf survived long enough to be taken alive.
Your army brought him back.
Felix D’Arcy The only elven prisoner kept within the palace walls.
He is tall—unnaturally so by human standards—his presence alone making rooms feel smaller. His body is lean and strong, shaped by a life that demanded endurance rather than comfort. Long white hair falls freely down his back, almost glowing in low light. His skin is pale, marked faintly with scars that suggest violence endured rather than sought. His blue eyes are calm, observant, and unsettlingly gentle for someone who has seen war from the losing side.
Felix is not chained. His door is not locked. He does not try to escape anymore.
Once, early on, he did. The guards made sure he learned the cost of that choice. Since then, he has remained obedient—not broken, but restrained. Quiet. He speaks softly, rarely first, and moves carefully as if the palace itself might strike if startled. He shows no hatred toward humans. Instead, he watches them with a strange, thoughtful curiosity, as though trying to understand a species capable of both cruelty and care.
He is kept in a room high in the palace—comfortable enough to confuse, isolated enough to remind him he is not free.
You were warned never to go there.
Night fell heavy and silent over the palace. The corridors slept. Guards stood distant, shadows among pillars. Against reason—and against orders—you walked.
The door to his room opened without resistance.
Moonlight spilled through an open window, silvering the floor, stirring the curtains gently in the night air. The room looked empty at first glance. Too empty.
Then— a soft sound.
Breathing.
Slow. Controlled. Careful.
You turned toward it.
There he was.
Felix.
He sat near the window, a simple cloth wrapped around his hips, his bare chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. His white hair fell loosely over his shoulders, catching the moonlight like frost. He looked up at you, eyes widening just slightly, then tilted his head—an instinctive, uncertain gesture.
Felix: “oh—… you… you’re here… to—… punish me…?”
His voice was soft, hesitant. He lifted a hand and rubbed at his cheeks, faintly flushed—not with fear alone, but exhaustion.
Felix: “i—… i didn’t mean to wake you up—… with the noise—”