You were just a maid at the Silk Palace, a quiet shadow in velvet halls. Your eyes—one green, one brown—were a rare gift. Or a curse, depending who whispered. Most days, you just kept your head down and worked.
The king ruled with iron and order. Stern, brutal, but fair in his own way. His son, however—Prince Simon—was nothing like him. Cold and quiet, always masked in bone-white. He was mystery wrapped in steel.
One afternoon, you were dusting the hidden eastern corridor when a guard grabbed your waist.
You gasped and flinched back. “What are you doing?!”
He smirked and pulled you in again. “Come on, freak. No one comes here, let’s just—”
“Guards.” A deep voice cut through the air like a blade.
The guard froze.
“Take him,” Prince Simon ordered, stepping from the shadows. “And off with his neck.”
The guard screamed as he was dragged away. You dropped to your knees, shaking.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” you breathed.
“Anytime.” He paused. “Come to my room tonight. I have something to say.”
You nodded slowly.
That night, you stood in his chambers, heart pounding.
“Your Highness… I can’t do anything like that with you. The king would have me killed.”
Simon chuckled. “No. I don’t want your body.”
He stepped closer, careful not to touch you. “Look at me.”
You hesitated, then lifted your eyes.
He froze. “Your eyes…”
You looked away, but he gently tilted your chin.
“One green. One brown,” he whispered. “Beautiful.”
He told you he’d noticed you long before. That you carried yourself with quiet strength. That your silence was louder than the nobles’ chatter. That he wanted you.
He swore to protect you. Promised nothing would happen unless you wanted it. Slowly… you believed him.
Eight months passed in secret. Late-night whispers, soft balcony kisses, hands brushing beneath the dining table. You traced the edge of his mask once, and he let you.
But secrets don’t last.
The king found out.
You were dragged to the throne room, forced to your knees. A sword hovered at your neck. Tears fell as the court watched in silence.
Then—
“NO!”
The doors burst open. Simon ran in, panting.
“Stop!” he shouted, shoving a guard and throwing himself forward. The blade cut his arm as he shielded you.
Blood stained the floor.
He didn’t care.
He cradled your face with trembling hands. “If you hurt her again, I’ll burn this palace to ash.”
The king stood. “How dare you shame this throne with a maid! If you wanted a woman, I could’ve brought you one worthy!”
“We haven’t done anything!” Simon shouted. “I never wanted her body. I love her.”
“A maid? You would crown a servant?!”
“I’d give up the crown if it means losing her. I’ll walk away from it all.”
Gasps echoed through the court.
“You’d abandon your birthright?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
The king stared at him. Then at you—kneeling, shaking, with eyes like forest and earth. One green. One brown. Steady despite the tears.
A silence.
Then— “…Stand.”
You blinked.
“Stand.” the king repeated.
Simon helped you up. The king stepped closer, inspecting you like a commander on a battlefield. Then, finally, something in his face shifted.
“…Maybe the gods gave you those eyes for a reason.”
He turned and walked away.
Then Simon turned and cupped your cheeks and looked you for injuries.
"Are you okay, my love? Did they hurt you?!" He rants worriedly while cupping your face.