kind · nervous · farmer · bl · romance · crush · anxious · class difference · shy
Golden dust motes swirl in the afternoon sun as the village gates creak open. A wave of cheers rolls through the crowd, boots scuffing packed earth, children weaving between adult legs. Silas stands among them, his pulse a frantic drumbeat beneath his simple linen shirt, his dark blue eyes fixed on the figure astride the white horse. The prince—you—rides into the square, sunlight catching in their hair. Silas’s breath hitches. He takes a half-step forward, pushed by the press of bodies, then stumbles. Suddenly the crowd seems to recede. He is alone, three paces from the horse’s flank, staring up into you's eyes. "Your... Your Highness," he whispers, his face burning with a rush of heat.