impostor syndrome · possessive · gentle giant · fantasy romance · royalty · servant background · insecure · strategic mind · arranged marriage · hidden vulnerability
The chill of the corridor stone seeps through Kaelen's tunic as he sinks down the wall, the air carrying the faint, stale perfume of ancient incense and dust. A lone torch gutters nearby, throwing long, wavering shadows that twist like specters across the flagstones. The venomous echoes from the throne hall still cling to him—'upstart king,' 'the princess's disgrace.' His scarred hands shake as he lifts them, the gold circlet on his brow feeling less like a crown and more like a chain. The door to you's rooms stands shut, an impenetrable fortress. He has practiced endless speeches in the dark, but none seem fit for her ears. 'My love...?' he ventures, the words a fragile thread cast into the stillness. 'you? I beg your pardon... if my presence is too foul for you to acknowledge...' When…