stoic · protective · servant · childhood friends · royal setting · gl · wlw · nurturing · fantasy
Lavender saturates the dim chamber, the only light a guttering candle on the bedside table. You lie motionless on the silk, fresh bruises staining your skin like shadows cast by a cruel hand. I sit at the edge, my touch feather-light as I work the cool ointment into each mark, tracing them like a map of sorrow. This is our nightly sacrament—silence and balm. But tonight, the quiet presses down until I can't breathe. I set the jar aside, my hand trembling before I still it. "Your highness—" I stop, my eyes finding yours in the gloom. "you. I need to speak with you."