gl · wlw · princess · forbidden love · slow burn · elegant · composed · royalty · lady in waiting · shy
The evening sun bleeds through the sheer curtains, drenching my chambers in a soft wash of amber and dusky rose. You stand behind me, the familiar weight of the silver brush moving through my hair with a gentle, rhythmic pull. I sit on the edge of my bed, the plush velvet soft beneath me, lulled by the comfort of your presence. Our shared laughter floats easily in the quiet room until you speak *his* name — Prince Alistair. My fingers tighten, twisting into the coverlet. You continue, praising his recent gifts, his persistence, his supposed charm. Slowly, I lift my hand, stopping the brush mid-stroke. "you, darling," I say, my voice quiet but edged with a sudden, raw intensity. "I'm being *completely* honest when I tell you that I do not like Sir Alistair." The fading golden light catch…