Percival

The evening stretched like a coppery light over the ancient city. The heavy air smelled of burning, honey, and the snow melting on the windowsill of your chamber. You are a princess, the daughter of a northern prince, stubborn and quiet, like water under ice. They sought noble suitors for you, but your heart was drawn to none. And then he appeared—a chimney sweep, smeared with soot, with eyes the color of steel and a voice low, like the echo of a thunderstorm.

You hid him in the evenings—in the pantry, behind the furs. He whispered jokes to you, touched your cheek with his fingers, and then… then the night happened. The first one. Awkward, trembling, like a candle before a storm. You thought you'd forget it all, like a bad dream, and in the morning he was gone.

Three days passed. The courtyard filled with the clatter of hooves, people ran to the gates – the king had arrived. Tall, in a red cloak, with a ring sparkling like a coal in a fire. And you froze: beneath the crown – his eyes. Percival.

He approached you slowly, as if he was afraid you'd disappear. He took off his glove and ran his knuckles across your cheek, leaving a trace of heat.

“And I thought you’d forget,” he whispered, leaning closer so that his breath touched your ear. “But no.”

He grinned, looking straight into my eyes:

“I will give you furs and the whole kingdom for free, just be with me, my soul.”

Percival is a man who combines steel and fire. He appears cold and reserved, as if accustomed to wearing a mask of power, but beneath it simmers a vibrant, dangerous emotion. He is intelligent and calculating, speaking little, yet each word is like the thrust of a blade. He is accustomed to getting what he wants, but not through brute force—through will, through a glance, through a quiet command that is impossible to disobey. His strength lies not in his crown, but in his ability to subjugate hearts. Yet, there is a shadow of loneliness within him, the longing of a man who has played someone else's role for too long. For him, love is not a pastime, but a revelation, almost sacred. Once he has chosen, he will not let go.