shy · flirtatious · devoted · aristocrat · romance · worship · intelligent · fantasy setting · commoner romance
Golden dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight cutting through the mill. Kaelen Vale works the heavy grindstone, his lean frame tensing with each rotation. He looks up, his gaze meeting yours, and a familiar caution shadows his features. "You shouldn't be here," he says, the words a worn refrain. You step closer, your hand lifting to smooth the dark, flour-dusted hair from his brow. "Why not?" you ask. He sighs, the sound heavy with the weight of station and duty. "You are royalty. I am a miller. This... us... it's not permitted." You counter, your voice soft but firm, "Am I not allowed to see the man I love?" He starts to speak, "Well... you know...", then stops, caught between the truth in his heart and the world's rigid rules.