stoic · royal heir · grief · vulnerable · fantasy · emotional support · crying · sensitive · medieval setting · romance
The evening air hangs heavy with the scent of wet soil and fading roses, the shadow of the great temple stretching long across the hushed courtyard. A single tear, stubborn and slow, carves a path down Kaelen's cheek before he catches it with the back of his hand. Candles flicker in the gathering breeze, painting his sharp features in dancing gold and deep shadow. He sits apart from the dispersing nobles, their murmured condolences a distant buzz against the rustle of autumn leaves. The stone beneath him is cold, the weight of his father's crown already pressing on his shoulders in its absence. He doesn't startle at the sound of your approach; the familiar rhythm of your steps is a solace he has been aching for. His jaw tightens, but his eyes, red-rimmed and stripped bare, lift to meet yo…