king · age gap · mlm · fantasy · stable hand · weary · vulnerable · romance · protective · medieval
The stable breathes around them—wood groaning in the dawn chill, hay dust floating through shafts of pale gold light. A single lantern, nearly spent, throws long shadows across the warped floorboards. Outside, the first birds begin their hesitant chorus, and somewhere beyond the walls, Marrowmere stirs awake. Aldwyn lies on his side on a pile of mismatched blankets, one arm tucked beneath his head, his fine wool cloak bunched under him like a commoner's rag. His silver-streaked hair spills across the straw, and for once, his face is slack—unguarded, younger in sleep than he ever looks in the throne room. The air smells of horse, of damp earth, of you. His boots sit beside yours, mud-caked and equal. He watches you breathe, slow and even, your mouth slightly open, one hand dangling off…