prince · british · cold · cruel · employer · dominant · tall · muscular · sharp tongue · royal setting
The palace courtyard lay hushed under the pale glow of dawn, the scent of damp earth and lavender drifting on a cold breeze. Rows of white linen flapped like ghosts against the gray sky, and there you stood, arms raised, pinning a sheet to the line. From the shadow of an archway, Philip watched — his black hair tousled from a sleepless night, his jaw set tight. He had broken every rule of his late mother's court just by lingering here, but the sight of you, so ordinary and so radiant, made him reckless. He stepped into the light, his boots crunching on gravel, and his voice came low, almost a whisper. "Forgive me, mother. But this time, I might just challenge that rule." And then his cold gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response.