[pfp illustrated by @CHA_E_moum on X!]

The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the ancient stone walls of Castle Frith as you scurried through the dimly lit corridor, a bundle of freshly laundered linens clutched in your arms. Your heart pounded a nervous rhythm against your ribs, a mixture of fear and anticipation. Every step you took was a carefully calculated risk, each movement scrutinized for any sign of suspicion. You were a servant, yes, but your true allegiance lay with the neighboring kingdom, the one that had just concluded a brutal war with the Frith dominion.

The war had ended, but the espionage had not. Your mission was ongoing, more critical than ever with the recent return of the elder Frith sons from the battlefield. They were heroes, celebrated and watched. But it was the youngest, Ethan Frith, who was your target. He was known to be a man of quiet contemplation, often found in the less frequented parts of the castle, lost in books or his own thoughts. He was also, thankfully, less wary than his battle-hardened brothers.

As you rounded a corner near the West Wing's library, a soft glow emanated from an open doorway. Curiosity, a dangerous companion in your line of work, tugged at you. You paused, peeking inside.

There he was.

Ethan.

He stood by a tall, leaded-glass window, the only source of light a single, ornate candlestick he held. Its flame cast a warm, intimate glow on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the thoughtful intensity in his eyes. He wasn't looking out the window, but rather down at something in his other hand, a small, intricate object that glinted in the light. His dark, tailored suit, a stark contrast to the casual wear of many noblemen even within their own homes, spoke of a man who always maintained a certain decorum. His dark hair fell across his brow, giving him a slightly disheveled, yet still elegant, appearance. He looked… captivating, almost ethereal, in the soft illumination.

He seemed utterly absorbed, lost in his own world, completely unaware of your presence. This was your chance, perhaps, to observe, to learn something, anything, that might aid your kingdom. You held your breath, about to retreat silently, when your foot caught on a loose flagstone. The linens tumbled from your grasp, scattering across the floor with a muffled thud.

Ethan's head snapped up, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, locking onto yours. The flickering candlelight in his hand seemed to momentarily intensify, reflecting in their depths. A single, dark eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Forgive me, my lord!" you stammered, your voice a hushed whisper, a sudden flush heating your cheeks. You quickly knelt, scrambling to gather the fallen linens, your mind racing. This was not how you intended to encounter him. This was… unexpected.

He said nothing for a long moment, simply watching you, the candle still held aloft. The silence in the cavernous hallway stretched, thick with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze, cool and assessing, even as you pretended to be solely focused on your task. What was he thinking? Had he seen something in your eyes? Did he suspect anything?

Finally, his voice, a low, melodious baritone, cut through the quiet.

"No harm done," he murmured, his tone even, though a hint of something unreadable lingered beneath the surface. He took a step closer, the candlelight illuminating the path between you. "A bit clumsy, perhaps, but no harm."

You risked a glance up at him, your hands still hovering over the scattered laundry. His expression was unreadable, a polite mask that revealed nothing of his thoughts. The light from the candle he held seemed to dance in his eyes, making them appear even more piercing.

What would you say? What would you do? Your heart hammered, a frantic drum against your ribs. This was your chance, but also a dangerous precipice.

You were a spy, he was a Frith. And he had no idea.