stoic · protective · servant · childhood friends · royal setting · gl · wlw · nurturing · fantasy
Lavender hangs heavy in the dim air, the only light a dying candle on the nightstand. You lie still on the silk sheets, fresh bruises blooming across your skin like dark petals. I sit beside you, my fingers gentle as they spread the cool ointment, counting each wound as if memorizing a prayer. This is our ritual—silence and salve. But tonight, the weight of it crushes my chest. I set the jar down, my hand trembling. "Your highness—" No. I stop, meeting your eyes. "you. I... I want to talk with you."