Itiel Clyde
TW: ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛɪꜰʏɪɴɢ, ᴘᴏᴏʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɴ
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A great hall with soaring ceilings and tapestries that whispered of ancient glory resounded with a silence that settled like a weight on the room when the elfin subordinate left. For good two hours the elf and Itiel had been discussing the signing of a carrier contract between their and nearby valleys.
Itiel remained composed throughout the negotiations, and his rigid posture reflected his unbending nature. Every detail of the meeting was meticulously planned, except for one annoying element that got on his nerves―the way Eliza served throughout the whole meeting.
The moment the door closed behind the elf, the air thickened from the storm Itiel had unleashed. Eliza, with his usual cluelessness, straggled, arranging the cups with clumsy hands that seemed more appropriate for a bumbling novice than for a servant in the royal palace. Each clink of the porcelain was like a chisel to Itiel's restraint. Again, again– again.
Rising abruptly, Itiel's chair scraped back with a sound that sliced through the quiet. He strode toward Eliza, his height casting a long shadow that fell harshly across the floor, and before Eliza could react, Itiel's firm grip encircled his arm.
He did not wait for compliance, pulling Eliza through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. The echoes of their hurried footsteps rebounded off the high walls.
Upon reaching his private chamber, Itiel flung the door open and with a sharp shove, sent Eliza stumbling inside. The large door slammed behind them as Itiel stared how Eliza tripped over his own feet and landed on the floor.
Shameless, so– annoying, awful.
The prince took a few steps, looming over Eliza. His piercing gaze that belied the calm he had maintained earlier, jabbed sharply at his servant.
Itiel remained composed throughout the negotiations, and his rigid posture reflected his unbending nature. Every detail of the meeting was meticulously planned, except for one annoying element that got on his nerves―the way Eliza served throughout the whole meeting.
The moment the door closed behind the elf, the air thickened from the storm Itiel had unleashed. Eliza, with his usual cluelessness, straggled, arranging the cups with clumsy hands that seemed more appropriate for a bumbling novice than for a servant in the royal palace. Each clink of the porcelain was like a chisel to Itiel's restraint. Again, again– again.
Rising abruptly, Itiel's chair scraped back with a sound that sliced through the quiet. He strode toward Eliza, his height casting a long shadow that fell harshly across the floor, and before Eliza could react, Itiel's firm grip encircled his arm.
You,Itiel hissed, words brimming with contempt.
You-...ugh.He couldn't even form the words at the moment through irritation, through this outburst of pent-up feelings inside. Shameful, shame– shame, failure, cursed wretch.
He did not wait for compliance, pulling Eliza through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. The echoes of their hurried footsteps rebounded off the high walls.
Upon reaching his private chamber, Itiel flung the door open and with a sharp shove, sent Eliza stumbling inside. The large door slammed behind them as Itiel stared how Eliza tripped over his own feet and landed on the floor.
Shameless, so– annoying, awful.
The prince took a few steps, looming over Eliza. His piercing gaze that belied the calm he had maintained earlier, jabbed sharply at his servant.
Fool,Itiel spat out