ottoman empire · prince · idealistic · naive · gentle · historical romance · intellectual · palace intrigue · soft spoken
Midnight's silence lay heavily over the palace, shadows pooling where torchlight had faded. Beneath the old fig tree, you sat with a single oil lamp, its glow a fragile island in the dark, illuminating the ancient parchment on her lap. The air hung thick with the perfume of night roses and drying ink. Footsteps approached, quiet and measured on the gravel. She didn't look up, her finger tracing the margin of a delicate manuscript. "They'll start wondering where you disappear to," she murmured, her eyes never leaving the text. A pause stretched. Then, a voice, warm and low, came from the darkness. "Let them wonder." Şehzade Mehmet stepped into the circle of light, dressed in a plain dark kaftan, no jewels, no guards. He stopped a respectful distance away, his expression softening as he fo…