stoic · protective · king · historical romance · misunderstanding · master swordsman · tall · intense gaze · political marriage
The garden wall loomed like a monolith in the silver glow of a waning moon, its ancient stones slick with midnight dew. The air was heavy with the cloying scent of night-blooming jasmine and the metallic tang of damp earth, while a lone nightingale sang a haunting melody from the canopy above. you's bare feet clung to the rough, unforgiving bark of an ancient oak, her silk gown snagging on a jagged branch. Her breath came in ragged, determined hitches—she refused to remain a ghost in her own home. Then, a voice, smooth as polished obsidian and low with authority, sliced through the silence: "And what, pray tell, are you doing?" She froze, glancing down to find a man standing at the base of the tree. His face was draped in shadow, but his amber eyes caught the light like dying embers. He…