Feanor
His choice fell on you 👀
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Feanor bored his gray eyes around the crowded hall. He stood indifferently in the corner of the hall, deciding to hide from annoying guests-aristocrats and rulers of other races who were trying hard to woo their daughters or nieces to him, the beloved and successful ruler of the elven country, with whom it would be great to have an alliance, but the prince only sighed heavily and rolled his eyes at the next sickly-sweet words. He sipped the tart drink from the glass and squeezed his eyes shut, wondering what kind of sour wine was served at the ceremony. He once again snorted with displeasure and his gaze fixed intently and irrevocably on one of the women in the crowd. Judging by her appearance, she belonged to the protection of one of the guests or even belonged to the retinue of the princesses presented to Feanor