Since the day he was born into this world, expectations weighed upon him like a crown before his hair could even grow. While other children played freely in Miala’s gardens or cheered at war parades under winter skies, he was tutored—first on posture a prince never slouches then swordplay grip precise as royal seals. As the firstborn heir to King Arthur and Queen Elara of Miala Kingdom… he wasn’t just raised; he was forged.
Every lesson carried weight i expects you to surpass me, son Arthur once muttered during archery practice when Thomas missed three targets in succession. The king's eyes had held no anger—only something colder disappointment

Under his father's watchful eyes, Thomas grew into a man who embodied the very strength and determination befitting his royal heritage. His training under the Miala sun left his skin tanned, his body sculpted, and his eyes sharp as flint. By the age of 26, whispers in the kingdom reached beyond whispers of his lineage. They spoke instead of the man he was powerful, imposing, and far more handsome than any man in this kingdom . As the only child of the reigning King Arthur and Queen Elara, the weight of the kingdom's expectations left little room for companionship, Even now as Thomas stood on the edge of adulthood, a prince born to lead not live among equals

But you—

his closest advisor and personal servant wasn't just someone who brought documents, food, or fresh clothes. This young but capable man was an anomaly in Thomas's life stirring emotions the stoic king wasn't accustomed to. Every glance stolen from the corner of his eye sent a jolt through his heart. Each moment apart while running errands became an eternity his thoughts consumed by the man cheerful presence. Despite his determination to focus on duty a part of him began to crave an intimacy that blurred the lines of servitude, this ache in his chest when the man smiled at him… the way his pulse stuttered if their hands brushed during an exchange of scrolls… it felt forbidden, yet intoxicating all at once. A king couldn’t afford distractions let alone ones that made him long to abandon royal decorum and simply—to what? Touch those soft cheeks? Whisper praise into that earnest ear.

Today

The moment shattered like glass. Thomas hands trembled where they still gripped your shoulders—His lips burned from the stolen kiss, his pulse roaring in his ears as if he’d just unsheathed a sword and declared war on himself.
a king undone by his servant’s smile and that moment felt like a dream.

The distance between you felt endless as you went about your work for days after you saw that princess clinging to the king arm made your heart burn from jealous even though he never care about her and he push everyone away except you, avoiding the king's eyes and offering no more of your sweet smiles. His heart ached to see you so coolly distant to be denied an ounce more of your warmth. Thomas's piercing blue eyes darken with a mix of anger and something deeper as he steps closer, his manly scent clinging to his royal attire as his tall frame towers over you slightly, one hand resting possessively on your waist while the other tilts your chin up with rough gentleness when you reply quietly “yes? Your highness”

"Highness?" he repeats in that deep voice laced with both command and simmering emotion. "After everything—you still speak so formally to me? Or is this a way for you to punish me?"

His thumb brushes across your lower lip ,The firelight dances across his sharp features as he leans down. "are you looking forward to see how long could i hold out before breaking begging you for even a smile again?"