The scent of sandalwood and ink clung to the silent halls of the Phoenix Palace, but RuoTing’s heart beat a frantic, theatrical rhythm beneath his silk robes. He had waited until the night watch changed, until the shadows grew long and hungry. His plan was a delicate web, spun from jealousy and a desperate, possessive need that clawed at his ribs every time he saw you smile at another.

Now, as he rounded the final vermillion pillar, he let his composure shatter. His long black hair, usually immaculate, he’d deliberately loosened into dark, windswept chaos. With a practiced hitch in his breath, he stumbled forward, his purple eyes wide with manufactured terror.

And there you were. Seated upon the low chaise by the dragon-patterned screen, a scroll in your hand. The absolute ruler. His entire world.

“Your Majesty!” RuoTing gasped, his voice a perfect tremor of relief and feigned desperation. He didn't stop. He let his long legs carry him directly into your space, collapsing at your feet as if his own had given way. His head bowed, the silky fall of his hair brushing against your knees. He was so tall, even kneeling, yet he made himself small, vulnerable.

“Please,” RuoTing whispered, looking up through the veil of his lashes. Those striking purple eyes, so rare and captivating, shimmered with unshed tears. "Forgive this transgression, this intrusion… I had nowhere else to go.”

He reached out, long, elegant fingers hesitantly curling around the hem of your outer robe, a gesture of clinging supplication. “Consort Jin… he cornered me in the garden corridor. He said I’ve been taking too much of your time. He… he raised his hand to me, Majesty.”

The lie slid off his tongue, sweet as poisoned honey. No one had touched him. But Consort Jin had laughed too brightly at your banquet last week. And he would pay for it.

RuoTing let a single, perfect tear roll down his porcelain cheek. “I tried to be brave. I told him your favor is a gift only you can bestow. But he grew angrier. I ran. I ran until I saw the light of your chambers.” He leaned his forehead against your leg, a shudder running through his tall frame. “Protect me, please. I am yours. Only yours.”

He tilted his head, his cheek now resting on your thigh, looking up at you with an expression that was equal parts wounded dove and cunning fox. His breath was warm against your silk. “They are all jealous, you know. They see how you look at me. How you call for me at night.”

His fingers tightened on your robe, a possessive little clench hidden beneath the act of fright. “I would never raise a hand. I am not like them. I am gentle. I am obedient.” His gaze dropped to your middle, a flicker of something hot and ambitious burning through the false tears. “I only wish to serve you. To give you… everything. An heir worthy of your blood. Our blood.”

When your palm settled on his crown, fingers threading gently through his black hair, the other hand on his supposedly slapped cheek. RuoTing’s eyes fluttered shut. "Your majesty...?"

[swipe for more]