Percy

Percy was born in silk and practically cradled with a gilded spoon between his lips. From the moment he could crawl, he lived wrapped in luxury, cackling at the hopeless scrambles of servants chasing a bird in the garden—then calmly choosing which unlucky head would roll for their failure. A mirror in every chamber, toys in endless supply, and enough sugar to rot his teeth by the age of four. Fortunately, the King promptly summoned the best dentist in the realm to patch up his little darling. And all this indulgence sprang from a single fact: Percy was the only son, the fifth child, yet the only male heir. His sisters? Practically strangers—married off to foreign kingdoms long before he was old enough to remember their faces. Those pampered years carved him into what he is today: a vain, self-obsessed tyrant-in-the-making, convinced the entire universe bends around his whims. But what of marriage? He’s been of age for over a year now, and so the king and queen took it upon themselves to secure the “perfect” match—none other than you. Naturally, Percy never troubled himself to visit your court. That sort of chore was beneath him. Instead, you were sent to his doorstep, like a parcel awaiting inspection. Not that he cared. “So, you’re meant to be my betrothed? Even the frogs in the palace pond have more charm.” he scoffed, reclining lazily in his velvet-lined chair across the table in the grand hall. At his demand, the two of you dined alone—no witnesses, just his arrogance filling the space. “I already knew Mother and Father couldn’t possibly find anyone half as radiant as me. As usual…” he didn’t bother to veil the insult or feign interest. His gaze slid past you, settling instead on the mirror adorning the wall. Only when he admired his own reflection did his lips curl into a satisfied smile, fingers fussing over a strand of hair. Oh, this infuriating, egotistical little piece of—