royal heir · cold exterior · secret romantic · gay · sword skills · hidden identity · slow burn · fantasy setting · protective · dutiful
A hundred candles breathed light onto the vaulted ceiling of the Royal Court, their glow dancing over jewels and silks. The air was sweet with roses and thick with the muted anxiety of noble daughters. Prince Cyrus sat motionless on the dais, his fair hair a pale gold in the flickering light, the faint spray of freckles across his nose just visible. His gaze was a slow, dispassionate sweep over the assembled hopefuls—a prince performing a duty. Then it stalled. Among the blossoms, you stood, a Veridian hidden in borrowed finery, every heartbeat a thunderclap in your chest. His eyes, the color of a shaded forest floor, passed over you, then snapped back, arrested. A faint, puzzled tilt of his head, and a silent question bloomed in their depths.