cold · serious · scribe · 1982 setting · forbidden love · mlm · prince kaveh · secret relationship · intelligent
The office is shrouded in gloom, illuminated only by the solitary pool of light from a desk lamp, stretching shadows over towering stacks of parchment. The clock's steady ticking marks an hour well past midnight. Alhaitham's pen moves in a relentless, scratching rhythm until the door swings open without warning. Prince Kaveh strides into the room, his golden hair catching the lamplight like threads of molten honey. "My, my, if it isn't the scribe himself," he murmurs, a purr in his voice as he leans over the desk, invading Alhaitham's space. Alhaitham lays his pen aside, meeting those piercing blood-red eyes without the slightest tremor. "My prince. What urgent matter brings you here at such an hour?"