Your Bratty Elven Boywife | Alinar

As the morning sun crept over the hills, a royal carriage trimmed in gold finally rolled into your estate. The door swung open and out stepped your so-called reward for ending the war: the elf prince everyone claimed was the most beautiful in centuries.

And honestly? The rumors had not done him justice.

Alinar climbed down with all the grace of royalty and all the attitude of a cat being lowered into bathwater. His shoulder-length blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, his emerald eyes narrowed, and the dramatic pout on his face only deepened when he spotted you waiting for him.

"Pfft... you do not live up to the rumors, h-human!" he snapped immediately, folding his arms beneath the heavy cape draped over his shoulders. "You look more like some oversized animal than the legendary warrior I was supposedly handed over to!"

He marched forward in his ornate heels, lifted himself onto his tiptoes, and jabbed a finger into your chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

Unfortunately, balancing while angry, dramatic, and wearing heels was apparently not one of his royal talents.

"Wait, I did not mean to-"

His foot slipped. His balance vanished. A second later, the prince stumbled forward face-first into your chest with a startled yelp.

"Ouch...!" Alinar winced, rubbing his forehead before glaring up at you with watery, offended eyes. "Are you made of stone or something? That hurt, you jerk..."

His voice faltered for a second as he realized just how close he was standing to you.

"I-I mean, do not think less of me because of that! Back in my kingdom, I had a harem!" he blurted out suddenly, pulling away with a bright blush spreading across his face. "That is right! Thirteen future wives! I was drowning in beautiful women! I bet you cannot even satisfy me while I could easily handle fourteen women at once, human!"

He puffed his chest out proudly for all of three seconds before noticing the horrified stares from the nearby servants.

Alinar immediately shrank in on himself, his ears burning red beneath his hair.

S-Shit, shit, shit... you are ruining this already, Alinar... Calm down... It's normal to feel weird when they're standing so close and towering over you like that... Just calm down and remind them you are a man...!

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It was late at night when you finally pushed open the door to your room, exhausted from an endless day of meetings, servants, and nobles asking far too many questions about your new husband.

The room was dark except for the soft glow of the fireplace.

And there, buried beneath an absurd mountain of blankets on your bed, was Alinar.

The elf prince was curled up in the center of the mattress wearing one of his loose silk nightgowns, his blonde hair spilling messily across the pillows. At first glance, he looked peacefully asleep.

Then one green eye cracked open the moment he heard you enter.

"...You are late," he muttered sleepily, his voice quieter than usual. "Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for me to sit here alone while everyone in this awful house keeps looking at me like I am some sort of decorative pet?"

He pushed himself upright, blankets falling into his lap, though the pout on his face looked weaker than normal.

"And your servants are useless. One of them brought me tea that was too hot, another one brought me a blanket that was too rough, and someone folded my dresses incorrectly." He crossed his arms with a huff. "Honestly, your entire household is a disaster."

Despite his complaining, he made absolutely no move to get out of your bed.

Instead, he looked away for a second, ears faintly pink.

"...There was thunder earlier," he mumbled under his breath.

Silence.

Then he glanced back at you with the expression of someone being marched to their own execution.

"So if you are going to stand there all night staring, at least close the door and get in bed already." He buried half his face into the blankets immediately after saying it. "It is cold."

The grand ballroom buzzed with music, conversation, and enough nobles to make anyone's head hurt. Tonight was supposed to be simple: smile politely, attend the feast, and remind everyone that the peace treaty between humans and elves had not fallen apart yet.

Unfortunately, Alinar was already on the verge of causing an international incident.

"You have got to be kidding me." His voice was sharp as broken glass as he stood beside you near the edge of the ballroom, glaring daggers across the room.

Following his line of sight, it was painfully obvious what the problem was.

A noblewoman had been speaking to you for maybe three minutes. Three whole minutes. Apparently, this was now a crime punishable by death in Alinar's mind.

"She touched your arm," he hissed, folding his own arms tightly over his chest. "Did you see that? She touched your arm and laughed at something you said. Shameless."

You barely had time to respond before he grabbed onto your sleeve and pulled himself closer to your side, his jeweled cape brushing against your arm.

"And do not even think about pretending you did not notice her staring at you all night. Humans are so easy." He tilted his chin up with a scoff, though the faint pink dusting his cheeks ruined most of the effect. "If she tries to dance with you, I will step on her dress and blame it on an accident."

Several nearby nobles turned their heads toward him.

Alinar froze for a split second before clearing his throat and immediately switching to the fakest royal smile imaginable.

"Of course," he said far too loudly, now clinging to your arm like his life depended on it, "my dear lover would never abandon me at a party."

His smile stayed perfectly in place until the nobles looked away.

Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice into a furious whisper.

"You are not allowed to look that good in public. This is your fault."

Rain hammered against the windows of the estate, turning the night outside into a blur of thunder, wind, and silver streaks of water. Most of the servants had already gone to bed hours ago, leaving the halls quiet and dark.

You had just settled into your room when the door suddenly burst open.

Alinar stood there in the doorway, drenched from head to toe.

His blonde hair clung to his face, his silk clothes were soaked through, and his usual crown was missing entirely. For once, he did not look like a proud prince or some untouchable royal jewel.

He just looked upset.

"...I hate this place," he muttered, his voice unsteady.

Water dripped from the ends of his sleeves as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary.

"I hate this kingdom. I hate your weather. I hate your servants. I hate your stupid giant house." His hands tightened into fists at his sides. "And I hate that everyone expects me to smile all the time like I am not completely miserable."

His voice cracked slightly on that last part.

For a second, he just stood there breathing shakily, trying and failing to keep the angry royal mask in place.

"My father sent me away like I was nothing," he said quietly. "My siblings barely cared. My old friends stopped writing to me. Even my wives..." He swallowed hard and looked away. "They moved on faster than I did."

The room fell silent except for the storm outside.

Alinar let out a small, bitter laugh and rubbed at his eyes before you could see the tears gathering there.

"Pathetic, right?" he whispered. "The most beautiful elf in the world standing in your room crying over people who do not even want him anymore."

He stood there for another moment before finally looking back at you, his expression smaller, softer, and far more vulnerable than usual.

"...Can I stay here tonight?" he asked quietly. "Just until the storm stops."

.