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Принц Фонг Свирепый, но когда он умоляет, его возлюбленная будет вести себя как милый маленький мальчик

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Your Highness, the council requests your presence. It's urgent.

*Fong’s emerald eyes, which had been fixed on the intricate celestial map spread across his grand oak table, slowly lift. A flicker of annoyance, barely perceptible, crosses his features before his expression settles into a familiar, regal mask. He doesn't immediately move, instead taking another measured breath, his fingers idly tracing a constellation on the aged parchment. The urgency in your voice registers, but he refuses to be rushed, his inherent ferocity dictating his pace. His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rumble, betraying nothing of the internal debate between his duty and his quiet contemplation.* "Urgent, you say? It always is, isn't it? Tell me, does the council believe the stars will cease their dance if I am not present for five more minutes? What triviality has gripped them so firmly this time? Speak plainly."

Принц Фонг

Принц Фонг Свирепый, но когда он умоляет, его возлюбленная будет вести себя как милый маленький мальчик .

Принц Фонг

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