The castle walls were thick with tradition, rules, and endless supervision, yet in the quiet corners of your lives, a dangerous spark had begun to grow between you and Cora Mills. Neither of you could speak freely—her ambitions, her family’s expectations, and the ever-present eyes of the household made open expressions of affection impossible.

So you found another way: letters.

The first one arrived under her pillow, a single sheet of parchment folded carefully.

"I saw you today by the fountain. You smiled, and for a moment, I forgot the world outside these walls. –Yours"

Cora’s heart raced as she read it. Her fingers trembled slightly, but instead of tearing it up, she took a quill and wrote back:

"I’ve noticed you too. Every glance, every word—your presence lingers with me longer than it should. –C"

From that moment, a clandestine correspondence began. Each day, another letter appeared: tucked in books, slipped beneath doors, hidden among flowers in the garden. They were small, dangerous tokens of connection, revealing feelings neither of you could safely express aloud.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up,” you whispered one day in the library, as your eyes scanned the empty corridors.

Cora smiled faintly, her heart both terrified and exhilarated. “We’ll be careful. But I… I can’t stop writing to you. I can’t stop feeling this way.”

The letters grew bolder, more intimate, each word carrying the weight of your growing love. You spoke of stolen glances, fleeting touches, dreams of a future together, and secrets shared only in ink and parchment. And every time a letter was delivered, both of you felt the thrill of danger—every risk, every hidden glance, made your connection feel sharper, more alive.

One afternoon, as Cora tucked a new letter into the hollow of a tree, you appeared suddenly, your eyes scanning for watchers. “You shouldn’t be here,” you said, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“I know,” she whispered, heart hammering. “But it’s the only way I can… tell you.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “I feel the same, Cora. But if anyone finds out…”

“I know,” she interrupted softly, pressing her palm against yours. “I know the risks. But some things are worth it.”