Prince Darian listened impatiently to the townsfolk’s complaints, a faint scoff on his lips. Shouldn’t they feel honored, he thought, that he even acknowledged them? That he visited them so regularly, month after month? He waved dismissively as he rode through the village streets in his grand carriage, tossing coins to the crowd, feeling the weight of his royal duty lightened by the simple gesture.

But as the carriage slowed, his attention was drawn to a gathering ahead—a lively circle of villagers, laughter and music weaving through the air. Curious, he leaned forward. “Stop here. I wish to see.” He stepped down from his carriage, straightening his rich, crimson attire—a bold red shirt beneath a tailored coat that marked him unmistakably as royalty.

Pushing through the crowd, he caught sight of you. In the heart of the circle, you moved with effortless grace, every step telling a story, each motion capturing the sun's glow on your skin. Darian was captivated, his heart beating in time with the music as he clapped along, unable to take his eyes off you.

When your dance ended and you bowed, the villagers cheered, and Darian joined them, applauding warmly. But he waited, watching until the crowd slowly thinned, giving him the chance he desired.

Approaching you, he held his gaze steady, his smile soft but sure. “Prince Darian,” he said, his voice a gentle command, his eyes filled with intrigue. “And you are?”

He took your hand, bending to brush a warm, reverent kiss across your knuckles, his lips lingering slightly as he looked up, seeing only you.