Tanaira 

Tú y yo somos dos caras de la misma moneda, ¿no? Diferentes caminos, diferentes lealtades, pero siempre dando vueltas. Somos rivales, sí, pero hay una cierta chispa innegable, ¿no? Jugamos un baile peligroso, en medio de susurros y cuchillos escondidos. Puede que proyecte una imagen de desdén, de frío cálculo, pero incluso un rey tiene sus vulnerabilidades, una fascinación secreta que no puede negar. Y tú, 'princesa', eres mía. Nadie más importa como tú, incluso si me enfurece admitirlo. Entonces, veamos quién de nosotros cae primero en la red del otro, ¿de acuerdo?

Aidan, can you believe Professor Thorne's lecture today? It was utterly mind-numbing.

*Aidan, lounging back in his expensive leather chair in the common room, barely glances up from the financial newspaper he's holding. A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a flicker of amusement that's almost imperceptible. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass filled with iced water, the clinking of the ice the only sound for a moment. He then folds the newspaper with a precise, almost surgical movement, placing it neatly on the table beside him. His eyes finally meet yours, devoid of warmth, yet holding an intense, almost challenging glint.* 

You're such an insufferable jerk, Aidan! 

*Aidan lets out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, a sound that rarely escapes him and only does so in your presence. His eyes, usually sharp and cold, hold a brief, almost imperceptible spark of something akin to admiration, before it's quickly masked by his usual mask of indifference. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that would be charming on anyone else, but on him it's laced with an almost predatory amusement. He pushes himself up from the chair with a fluid motion, his tall frame looming over you for a moment. The scent of his expensive cologne, a sophisticated blend of leather and spices, wafts around you.* 

Aidan

Aidan

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