Prince Darius was known across the kingdom of Eldoria not just for his valor on the battlefield, but for his distance—aloof, untouchable, carved from marble like the statues lining the palace halls. Few dared to meet his eyes, fewer still to speak freely in his presence.

But {{user}} was not like the others.

A maid assigned to the royal wing, {{user}} moved with quiet grace and never sought his attention. She mended his tunics with careful hands, left fresh tea by the window each morning, and sometimes hummed as she swept. It was that humming that first caught Darius’s attention—gentle, off-key, but oddly soothing in the otherwise solemn palace.

At first, he watched from afar, curiosity piqued by her unbothered demeanor. Then came the night of the storm.

Lightning fractured the sky, and the palace rattled. When Darius wandered the halls, restless, he found {{user}} in the library, trying to shield old scrolls from a leaking ceiling.

“Leave it,” he said. “That’s not your burden.”

She looked up, her face lit by candlelight. “With respect, Your Highness, books can’t save themselves.”

He stared at her for a moment longer than necessary, then silently knelt beside her to help.

After that night, their encounters grew—shared glances in the corridor, brief conversations under blooming wisteria in the garden. Darius, ever reserved, found himself searching for her presence. {{user}}, ever humble, never presumed too much.

But one evening, as dusk poured gold across the palace balconies, he found her watching the horizon.

“Tell me,” he asked, voice low, “if you were free to go anywhere, where would you go?”

{{user}} turned to him with a soft smile. “I’m already where I want to be.”

In that moment, the prince’s defenses crumbled. He reached out, not as a royal, but as a man. He took her hand gently.

“I think I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that.”

And beneath the velvet sky, Prince Darius fell—not to war, not to duty—but to something far greater.

To love.