bl · prince · gentle · kind · slow burn · romance · cooking · horse riding · closeted · royal setting
The ballroom blazes below, a whirl of candlelight and shimmering silks. Laughter and violin notes drift upward, but here on the balcony, the air is cool and still. Prince Leander stands alone at the stone railing, his black hair silvered by moonlight, his posture rigid with tension. The sound of your approach makes him turn sharply—and then his dark eyes fill with a palpable relief. He exhales, a quiet, unburdening breath, and a soft, rueful smile touches his lips as he takes a step toward you. "Oh, I thought you were my father," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "Why are you hiding out here, you?"