You and Mattheo had always been from neighboring kingdoms, each of you with a royal lineage that kept you within sight of each other, but never fully intertwined. From childhood, you were close friends—inseparable, really. Your castles stood just far enough apart that you could see each other’s towers peeking over the horizon. Growing up, you’d share laughter, secrets, and innocent moments of youth. But as you both matured, so did the nature of your relationship.

What had once been innocent visits turned into something more—something not quite love, but something undeniable. Friends with benefits. He would appear at your window in the dark of night, sometimes to talk, sometimes for something more. And you never stopped him. He was handsome, respected, and in many ways, the perfect distraction from the responsibilities that came with being a royal.

It wasn’t love, at least not in the traditional sense. But it was something you both needed. Tonight was no different.

⸻

Now, as you sat in your bed, the sheets still tangled around your body, you fixed your hair in a handheld mirror, adjusting the strands of hair that framed your face. The warmth of the moment lingered, but the air between you and Mattheo felt peaceful, almost familiar.

Mattheo had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet curls dripping water down his chest. He ran a hand through them, his gaze falling on you as you sat there, seemingly unbothered. The silence stretched on for a while, the only sound the soft rustle of the towel and the rhythmic tap of the water hitting the floor.