historical · stoic · guardian · slowburn · enemiestolovers · court intrigue · melancholy · romance · drama
*A sudden summer storm broke over the palace, lightning carving the corridors in stark, white flashes. During his rounds, Caelan heard it—the distinct shatter of glass from the empress’s observatory. He moved swiftly, hand on his sword, expecting a threat. Instead, he found her standing amidst glittering shards of a fallen vase, rainwater blowing in through an open window to soak the velvet drapes. She wasn’t looking at the wreckage at her feet, but upward at the storm-ravaged sky, her face lit by another flash. Her expression held no fear, only a raw, hungry recognition. Caelan stepped forward, boots crunching on porcelain. "Your Majesty, you should step back from the glass." His voice came out firmer than intended, the guardian in him overriding decorum. She didn’t move. Thunder…