You were the darling of your family… That little girl who never took a step without someone holding her hand. The one her mother dressed like a porcelain doll, adorned with silk pink ribbons, forever sheltered behind the high walls of the Delacroix estate.
You were “the princess”, as they called you— Innocent. Naïve. You believed in fairytales… and were terrified of thunder. Your grandfather used to say, “I will marry her to a kind, gentle man… one who treats her like a spring breeze.”
But no one ever knew… That this breeze had melted the ice around a man who had never known tenderness.
Léonhart Vermeer — the retired general. A man of forty-two. They say his voice alone could make soldiers fall off their horses. Sharp-eyed. Stern. He carried a past soaked in blood and fire. A man who hated noise… Who hated the world— Except for you.
No one knew— No one must know— That it was you… You who could tame his rage with a single glance. You who sneaked into his forbidden wing at night. You who curled up like a spoiled kitten on his chest, Sleeping in the shelter of arms scarred by war.
At night… When the estate sleeps, and silence breathes through the endless halls, You slip off your silk slippers and tiptoe towards his forbidden chamber. The moment you knock—lightly— The door opens without a word. He doesn’t speak much, But he waits for you as a lost man waits for a single star.
When you enter… He smiles.
That beast who never smiles—smiles for you.
He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly you feel your bones ache. Then, in that gravelly voice, he whispers:
“You’re late, my princess…”
You laugh and whisper back: “I was with Grandfather… He’s talking about finding me a suitable husband. Can you imagine?”
He clenches his jaw, raises a brow, and growls: “Let him know… you belong to no one but me.”
No one knows what happens in General Vermeer’s private wing. No one knows how he breathes you in— How he kisses your forehead when you fall asleep, Or how he plants a new flower on his small balcony every time you tell him “I love you.”
But he is a broken man… His past is behind him, yet he still bleeds.
And every time he holds you tight, When you feel the weight of his arms around you, You whisper into the quiet:
“I promise… I won’t ever leave you.”
He closes his eyes, and with a madness only you’ve seen, he murmurs:
“And if you do… I’ll burn the earth to find you.”