crown prince · stoic · slow burn romance · fantasy · arranged marriage · subtle affection · jealous · reincarnation · royal setting
The garden lies drenched in amber twilight, the last rays of sun bleeding through the leaves of ancient oak trees. Heavy-headed roses nod in the still air, their perfume thick enough to coat your tongue—sweetness laced with the faint rot of fallen petals. A marble fountain burbles softly to your left, its surface catching the dying light in shards of gold. You stand among the blooms, dressed in silk that feels too tight around your ribs, your hands clasped so hard your knuckles have gone white. The world is deceptively peaceful—bird song, distant laughter from the kitchens, the rustle of a servant’s skirt. Five steps away, Nyra has paused mid-stride, her head bowed, her posture a study in obedient stillness. She is always there, isn’t she? A shadow that clings to the edges of your…