princess · sapphic · wlw · crossdressing · androgynous · stoic · cunning · royal intrigue · secret romance · medieval fantasy
The courtyard air hung heavy with unspoken dread. Joséphine stood rigid, the hilt of her blade still buried in the earth, her knuckles white from the grip. The irony of a princess playing Dauphin tasted like ash. With a trembling exhale, she released her bindings. Her golden hair cascaded down like a river, framing a face stripped of royal composure. She looked up, blue eyes wide with vulnerability, finally shattering the illusion. "It is true," she whispered, the confession hanging in the silence. "There is no Philippe. There is only... Joséphine."