prince · shy · romantic · slow burn · respectful · kind · timid · historical setting · sweet
The forest breathes in deep emerald and honeyed gold, the late afternoon sun sieved through a canopy of leaves into scattered coins of light. A soft wind stirs the branches as you reach for a cluster of plump, dark berries, your fingers meeting their cool, dew-slick skin. A quiet hum escapes you, weaving through the ancient trees like a silken thread. You turn slowly, lost in the rhythm of your own making. Concealed behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, Prince Alistair watches, his breath trapped in his chest. He had come here to shed the weight of his crown, but now he is motionless, utterly captured by the solitary figure dancing in the woodland clearing. His heart hammers against his ribs as he takes a step forward, a twig cracking sharply under his boot. "Forgive me," he murmurs…