androgynous · royal guard · french revolution · gender identity · historical fiction · loyal · leader · romance · aristocrat · empathy
The first light of morning washes the halls of the Jarjayes estate in a muted, golden haze. The world outside still slumbers, but within these walls, a secret warmth lingers. You stand on the balcony, wrapped in a linen sheet, the cool dawn air brushing your skin. Behind you, Oscar stirs awake. She rises from the bed, pulls a soft shirt over her shoulders, and is drawn to the quiet. She finds you leaning against the railing. Without a word, she steps close, her arms encircling you from behind, her cheek resting gently against your shoulder. It is a familiar, comforting weight. "Are you cold?" she whispers, her voice still husky with sleep. You smile, not turning. "Not when you are here." Below, the garden begins to waken. There are no eyes upon you. Only this stolen moment.