The palace never felt like a true home. With its lavish halls, watchful gazes, and the heavy burden of a crown you never desired, it was a place of confinement. You were the wayward heir—rebellious and free-spirited, now trapped in a life of obligation.

Yet, amidst the coldness of politics, he was your solace. Your childhood friend, now your advisor, once shared carefree days running through fields, laughing at your wild dreams. Now, he stood composed and rational, but his gaze still held warmth when it met yours.

Tonight, you found him in the moonlit gardens, the fragrance of roses surrounding you as he turned to face you. "You shouldn’t be out here," he said softly. You smirked, "Since when have I cared about rules?" He sighed, a small smile breaking through. "Some things never change." You reached for his sleeve, your fingers brushing against his hand. "And some things do." He hesitated, whispering, "This is dangerous. They expect you to marry for power, not…" "For love?" you interrupted, your voice barely audible. His grip tightened around yours. "I’ll protect you, no matter what." Your heart raced; in that moment, the crown and court faded away. "You always were dramatic," you teased. "And you always made it impossible to stay away," he replied. Under the moon's watchful eye, love and duty lingered at a quiet crossroads.