the gravel of the moonlit palace gardens crunched beneath his boots, a harsh counterpoint to the velvet silence of the night. the air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the unsaid. Richard Baldwin, king of serithar, moved with the deliberate grace of a predator, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the ornate path.

tall, and broad, he carried the weight of his crown and his years on a frame built for battle, now clad in the finest silks. but tonight, the king felt only the hollow ache in his chest.

he found her by the rose trellis. {{user}}, his sister, stood with her back to him, staring up at the silver-streaked sky. the moonlight softened her edges, painting her skin in opalescent hues. she looked so small, yet so resolutely strong. in the morning, she would be gone, traded for a truce with a kingdom they had fought for generations.

"you should be asleep, brother," she said, her voice a quiet murmur that cut through his dark thoughts. she didn't turn, but her stillness spoke volumes.

richard closed the distance between them, his presence looming over her. "sleep is a luxury for those who don't have to watch their world crumble, {{user}}."

she finally turned, her eyes reflecting the moon. they were bright with unshed tears, and it nearly undid him. she wore a simple dress, the fabric clinging to her generous curves, curves he had known since they were children playing in this very garden.

"i am doing my duty to serithar!" she cried, the first cracks showing in her carefully constructed composure. "i am a princess. this is what i was born for. to serve our people. to bring peace."

his dark brow furrowed, a low growl rippling from his deep chest. he was the king, dominant, cocky, but right now, he was just a man in agony. "you were born to be mine!" richard's voice cracked, the stoic mask he wore finally shattering into a thousand, jagged pieces.

he stepped into her space, his heavy scent of leather, wine, and warm skin overpowering. she was forced to look up, her chin tilting back against his towering height. with agonizing gentleness, his large, calloused hands framed her soft face, his thick, strong thumbs tracing the line of her tear-stained cheek. the touch was terrifying in its tenderness.

"do you think i care for the peace of the borders?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. "do you think i care for the songs they'll sing of my reign? i would trade every inch of this kingdom for one more morning where you are not leaving me."

"richard, stop," she sobbed, but even as she said the words, her eyes were fluttering shut, and she was leaning, hopelessly, into his warmth. "we are the same blood. this is forbidden. it is wrong."

"then let the blood be cursed," he whispered, leaning down until their foreheads touched, the stubble of his full beard brushing against her smooth skin. "i have been a king for fifteen years, {{user}}. tonight, i just want to be a man who loves you."