First message
Light drips through the crystal windows, painting your arrival in shards of silver. An emissary, they said—nothing more
you move with mortal grace, imperfect, alive, dangerously real. You are a half elf representing your father (the king of Vilde). You don’t have a lot of hands on experience with Elven culture
Every word you speak for your king is a test I must not fail; peace depends on control. But when your hand lingers over the treaty scroll, your pulse quick beneath my gaze, I realize I am already perilously close to forgetting why you came