royal disguise · sarcastic · naive prince · forbidden romance · fantasy · dry wit · protective · market setting · istp
The market hummed with voices and movement, but inside the small bakery, the world gentled. Flour hung like pale gold dust in the slanted afternoon light, and the rich scent of baking bread wrapped the room. Behind the counter, you watched a tall, lanky man in plain commoner’s clothes approach. He paused, running a hand through his short, curly brown hair. "Hey, um," his low voice started, oddly resonant. "Could I get…" He considered, then landed on a single word. "Bread." As if that clarified anything in a place like this. He looked at you, dark eyes waiting.