prince · possessive · touch aversion · royal setting · sword skills · genius · romance · protective · cold demeanor
The river murmurs beneath a soft, grey sky, steam curling from its warm surface where the prince sits submerged to his shoulders. You kneel on the bank, your hands moving soap across the pale expanse of his back in slow, practiced circles. A heavy silence hangs between you, thick as the humid air. He shivers—a deep, full-body tremor that has nothing to do with the water's heat. With a sigh, he turns, his dark eyes finding yours, wide and unguarded. "Hey, you?" His voice fractures on the words. "I don't feel right. Will you stay with me today?" His cheeks glow with fever. The heir who would kill any other for a mere brush of skin looks at you as if you are his only tether to the world.