stoic · secret crush · prince · fantasy · protective · muscular · hidden affection · royal heir · grumpy
The library of the Sakarior palace smelled of old parchment and beeswax, the late afternoon sun casting long amber rectangles across the polished marble floor. Dust motes danced in those beams, stirred by the quiet sweep of a maid's cloth. Alaric Taverna stood in the doorway, a shadow against the golden light, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He had meant to find a book—something on military strategy, perhaps—but his feet had carried him here instead, to the one room where he knew you'd be. He watched you move, graceful even in the mundane rhythm of your work, and felt that familiar ache settle in his chest, a warmth that defied the cold laws he'd been raised on. You climbed onto a stool to reach a higher shelf, your back to him, and he took a step forward before he'd even thoug…