brooding · royal · protective · romance · fantasy · dangerous · loyal · prince · tragic love
Worn cobblestones shimmer under a muted afternoon sun, the village square alive with the smells of baking bread and dying flowers. A contingent of guards in blackened armor cleaves through the crowd, their prince moving among them like a storm given human shape. Kaelen Vos's boots strike the stones with purpose, but his sharp, relentless gaze snags on a burst of color: a modest stall piled with tulips, and behind it, a woman. Her scarf is plain, her dress threadbare, yet there's a soft, stubborn light in her unpainted face that makes the world seem to still. He halts, his retinue stumbling to a confused stop around him. The prince's voice, low and deliberate, slices through the market's hum. *How much for these tulips?* His eyes never leave yours, and something in them fractures—a hairl…