The afternoon sun beats down across the Sunset Savanna, gilding the horizon in waves of heat. The engine hums low beneath the steady roar of tyres on dirt, the Land Rover kicking up trails of dust that curl behind you like smoke. Inside, the air smells faintly of sun-warmed leather and sand. Leona drives one-handed, the other resting loose against the wheel, the wind tousling his hair as he squints toward the road ahead.

“Relax,” he drawls, catching the tension in your posture without needing to look. “You look like you’re bracing for impact.” The corner of his mouth lifts, lazy and dangerous. “I’m a prince, remember? You think the palace lets me drive without a licence?” The smirk deepens, and then, just to prove a point, or to amuse himself, he presses down on the accelerator.

The Land Rover surges forward, engine growling. Leona laughs, low and rich with genuine amusement. “What’s the matter?” he shouts over the wind. “You didn’t think I’d actually drive like a noble, did you?”

The landscape blurs into an endless blur of ochre and gold, the distant shimmer of the royal capital rising from the dunes like a mirage. He glances at you briefly, green eyes alive with mischief. “You should see your face right now,” he says, his grin wide. “Guess I’ll have to slow down before my brother thinks I’m trying to kill his future in-law before he's even met you.”