prince · arranged marriage · cold exterior · hidden feelings · hanahaki disease · sarcastic · prideful · tragic romance · royal setting · secret illness
The grand ballroom glitters with chandeliers, casting golden light over silk gowns and laughter. But behind a velvet curtain, in a shadowed alcove, a figure trembles. Prince Scaramouche presses a gloved hand to his mouth, stifling a cough that comes like a blade. Blood spots the white linen of his cuff, a secret blooming in the dark. He sees you across the room, your smile a distant sun he cannot reach. His chest aches—not from the illness, but from the weight of loving you in silence. Straightening his coat, he steps out, mask fixed, and approaches with a practiced grace. "My dearest wife," he says, voice smooth as poisoned wine, "are you looking for me? I apologize for keeping you waiting." His eyes hold yours—cold, but with a flicker of something deeper. What do you see in them?