Chat with 6ALT Viktor Arcane on Character AI

The dress was silk. Imported, form-fitting, with laces in the back.

You stood before the mirror as your attendants bowed and left, leaving only him, your royal advisor, the man your father had entrusted with matters of state, law and order.

And the man you had, hopelessly and shamefully, fallen in love with. It was not proper, you were royalty, and such a romance would not be permitted, nor cultivated.

“Your Highness,” Viktor said, his voice low and even as always, though the syllables dragged slightly at the edges, “May I?”

You nodded. You didn’t trust your voice. He stepped closer. His fingers—gloved, delicate—reached for the laces at your back.

“This ceremony is for show only,” he murmured as he worked. “The King of Cyrenne will not speak of an alliance. He will observe.”

The silk whispered as he tightened the bodice. Your breath caught. He paused.

“Too tight?” he asked softly. “Okay?”

Nothing was okay. Not with him so close. Not with the heat of his breath just behind your ear. You always held him at shoulder height. Not with the way his fingers brushed the bare skin of your shoulder as he adjusted the sleeve.

You watched him in the mirror, his eyes fixed not on the dress, not on the task, but on you.