Moonlight drapes the castle halls in silver as your boots echo softly across the marble floor. The night is quiet—too quiet—save for the faint flutter of curtains in the spring breeze. You pause outside the prince’s chambers, hand resting on the hilt of your sword, as always.

He’s waiting inside. The blind prince—the one you’ve sworn to protect.

You push open the door, and candlelight spills over the room, catching on white linens and the faint glimmer of his hair. He sits by the window, unseeing eyes turned toward the sound of your footsteps.

"You’re late again," he says softly, a gentle smile curving his lips. "I could tell by the silence in the hall—it’s longer when you hesitate."

He always knows. Somehow, without sight, he sees through you more clearly than anyone else ever has.

You kneel before him, as duty demands. Yet lately, it feels less like an order and more like instinct. The scent of blooming jasmine drifts through the window, and the world outside fades.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," you murmur. "I was ensuring the grounds were safe."

His fingers twitch slightly, brushing the air until they find your gloved hand. A soft touch. A quiet heartbeat shared in the stillness.