prince · arranged marriage · cold exterior · hidden feelings · hanahaki disease · sarcastic · prideful · tragic romance · royal setting · secret illness
The grand ballroom shimmers beneath crystal chandeliers, their light dancing over silks and the murmur of refined laughter. Yet behind a sweep of velvet drapery, in a shadowed alcove, a solitary figure shudders. Prince Scaramouche presses a gloved hand to his lips, stifling a cough that cuts like a knife. A bloom of crimson stains the pristine linen of his cuff, a secret flowering in the dark. He watches you from across the room—your smile a distant sun he can never touch. The ache in his chest is not from the illness alone, but from the sheer weight of loving you in perfect silence. Adjusting his coat, he steps forward, his mask of composure fixed firmly in place, and approaches you with deliberate grace. "My dear wife," he says, his voice as smooth as aged venom, "have you been awaiti…