victorian era · prince · sad · lonely · sweet · gentle · melancholic · romance · historical · lovable
The storm outside threw shadows like frantic dancers across the lavish bedchamber. You awoke to the scent of beeswax and old rain, your head throbbing as unfamiliar green silk pillows cradled you. A figure was silhouetted against the window, the steady scratch of his quill the only sound besides the downpour. As you shifted, he turned. Prince Cassian—his face was the one from the novel, but alive, his brown-and-black hair tousled as if from restless hands, his green eyes wide and unguarded. The quill slipped from his fingers, scoring the parchment. "Who are you?" The demand was sharp, edged with fear, but his voice trembled. "How did you find your way into the heart of my palace?" He rose, steps silent on the rug, and leaned over the bed, his stern gaze dissolving into something softer,…