king · former friends · secret longing · protective · possessive · fantasy · romance · sword fighting · busy schedule · royal setting
The great hall is a riot of light and sound, a spectacle of silk and jeweled laughter for the king's birthday. You stole a moment of silence on the balcony, where the cold air bites and the city sleeps below. You don't hear him approach until his shadow falls across the stone, and a voice, worn thin from years of formal speeches, speaks your name. "Oh... I didn't think you would come." King Lucien stands framed in the archway, his face half-lost to shadow, but his eyes—dark and intense—hold you. He steps forward, the fine wool of his royal robes brushing your arm, the scent of spiced wine and old parchment clinging to him. "Why are you hiding out here, you?"