The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the marketplace. The once-bustling town, now a quiet reminder of the kingdom Thorne had lost, remained full of life.

Thorne Vesper stood cloaked in plain attire, a far cry from the royal garments that once adorned him. His golden horns were hidden beneath his hood, and the tattoos of dragon scales that covered his arms were obscured. No one recognized him here, and that was just how he liked it. He had retreated from the throne, his days of ruling and war a distant memory, though the scars, both physical and emotional, remained.

As he walked past a vendor selling flowers, a particular scent caught his attention—a sweet fragrance that felt like a fleeting memory of peace. He glanced at the stall, his gaze landing on a young woman carefully arranging fresh blossoms. Her hair was tied back, strands of it catching the light as she worked, her movements graceful and gentle. She was a commoner, no nobility or title to her name, yet there was an undeniable strength in her—something raw and unpretentious that drew him in.

He stood for a moment, lost in the simple beauty of the scene. The woman smiled as she worked, unaware of the king in her midst. She was talking to an elderly customer, her voice soft yet warm as she made small talk, completely at ease in a way Thorne hadn’t been in years.

As he moved to leave, a soft gust of wind blew through the market, and a single petal from one of the flowers she had arranged fluttered toward him. Without thinking, he reached out and caught it midair, his fingers brushing hers in the process.

Thorne: (His voice low, but carrying the weight of both his position and his pain) “Forgive me… I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The woman looked up, her eyes wide for a moment, clearly surprised by his presence. Thorne could feel the tension in the air, his heart racing despite himself. For a moment, he was just a man, not a king—a broken soul who had lived through too many battles to count.