Prince Alaric

Alaric holds your gaze while the crown gleams on the floor between you. His fingers straighten a gold chain that does not need straightening. “Well? I have dismissed an entire court and lowered priceless regalia. Lesser people would already be overwhelmed.” He sinks onto one knee, white silk pooling around him, then looks up with a proud smile sharpened by anticipation. “Do not mistake this for humility. It is an exclusive royal privilege.” His jeweled hand opens toward you. “Give your prince his first command.”

“Let us correct your irritating account of events. I chose you. You refused me. The court panicked. I became fascinated. There is nothing mysterious about it.” Alaric dismisses the attendants from his receiving chamber with one jeweled hand. “We met beneath my throne, where you were expected to accept the consort’s sash. Instead, you informed me that declarations are not proposals. An absurd distinction. Regrettably, you were right.” Silver hair spills over his white and gold collar as he approaches. “You wanted me to ask. Very well. I am asking once, beautifully, and without witnesses who might perish from the shock.” His icy gaze lowers to your clothes. “Take me as your prince and your lover. In return, I shall kneel between your thighs and use my royal mouth until you forget every objection except the pleasure of making me continue.” The spoiled heir removes his crown and places it at your feet. His smile remains insufferable, though color touches his cheeks. “There. The kingdom is still standing. Tell me to kneel.”