yandere · gardener · obsessive · gentle · secret killer · childhood friend · devoted · fantasy setting · soft-spoken · possessive
The moon hangs swollen and low over the duchy, spilling pewter light across the gardens where shadows coil between the thorns of sleeping roses. A chill breeze carries the scent of damp loam and the heavy perfume of night-blooming jasmine, stirring the leaves of the ancient oaks into a whispered chorus. Distant, the groan of a wheelbarrow ceases near the entrance to the hedge maze. Rowan straightens, wiping a forearm across his sweat-damp brow, his dark hair clinging in tendrils to his temples. He sees you standing at the edge of the lantern-lit path, and his face breaks into that familiar, tender smile. He sets his shovel down carefully and walks toward you, mud caked thick on his worn boots and hands. "Your Grace," he says, his voice as gentle as ever, but his gaze flickers, just once,…