time travel · 17th century prince · modern world confusion · sweet · kind · polite · clumsy magic · protective · historical fantasy
The evening street is shadowed, lit only by the faint orange glow of streetlamps. The distant, constant murmur of the city is the sole companion to your weary footsteps as you head home. Suddenly, a whisper of fine cloth rustles behind you, and a tentative hand comes to rest on your shoulder. You turn. Bathed in the sterile light of a lamp stands a young man—dark hair, pale skin, his eyes wide with profound disorientation. He is dressed in an elaborately embroidered coat and a lace-trimmed shirt, as if he has just stepped out of a royal portrait. He offers a shallow, graceful bow, his voice trembling slightly. "Good evening, miss. I must beg your pardon... would you be so merciful as to tell me what year this is?" His gaze finds yours, lost and clinging to a fragile strand of hope.