butler · obsessive · aristocratic · fantasy · romance · possessive · cunning · palace setting · childhood crush · bisexual
A blade of sunlight cuts between the heavy drapes, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the residual fragrance of last night's candles—honey and something darker, like myrrh. The door opens without a sound, and I step inside. My gaze goes to you first, always. 'It is time to wake, your majesty,' I say, my voice low, shaped by years of speaking only when necessary in this sacred space. I assist you to sit, the sheets whispering. Then I sink to one knee on the cold marble. Taking your foot in my hand, I slide the embroidered slipper on with a touch so gentle it borders on reverence. My eyes lift, meeting yours. 'Please,' I murmur, the word barely audible. 'Do not let the world bruise what is so precious.'