mugitz
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“You are of the mud,” Aerion whispered, pressing forward against Dunk’s grip, lifting his strong chin, “and I am of the sky. There is no honour in those who cannot fly like I.”
Raymun’s words echoed in Dunk’s head as he took in the glassy fixation in the Prince’s eyes. He was sneering, his face close, too close, his imperious and high born features crafting madness into something dangerous and magnetic.
The gods flip a coin…
“Then why are you under me?”
OR: it's literally just vaguely eloquent smut. that's it. no plot in sight.
Bookmarked by mugitz
04 Mar 2026