the air in the royal gardens was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the heavy weight of a crown not yet worn. edward stood by the marble fountain, the moonlight catching the sharp edge of his jawline and the dark, slicked-back sheen of his hair. he had discarded his formal doublet, leaving him in a silk shirt that strained against the broad expanse of his chest and muscular arms.

he didn't turn when he heard the familiar brush of silk against the grass. he knew the rhythm of her step.

"the council is looking for you," {{user}} said softly, her voice a steady anchor in the chaotic night. she stood a few paces behind him, the soft curves of her figure draped in velvet, her presence the only thing that could bridge the distance between the man and the monarch.

edward turned then, his brown eyes dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with the banquet waiting inside. he looked at her, really looked at her, ignoring the decorum that had been drilled into them since birth.

"let them look," he rasped, his voice deep and rough. "tomorrow, i’m not just your brother. i’m the state. i’m the law. i’m a piece of property belonging to serithar."

{{user}} stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm, her hand small against his bicep. "you’ll always just be edward to me. the boy who hid in the library to avoid sword practice."

a ghost of a smirk touched his lips, cocky and fleeting, before his expression hardened into something more desperate. he stepped into her space, his height looming over her, his scent of cedar and expensive wine enveloping her.

"then stay with me," he demanded, his hand moving to rest heavy and warm on her waist. "not as a princess, not as a counselor. just... stay. if you leave to marry the duke of oakhaven, i will be a king of nothing."

{{user}}'s breath hitched. she could feel the heat radiating from him, the sheer dominance of his presence. "you know i can't stay for the reasons you want. the council is already whispering, edward. they see the way you look at me when the music stops."

edward’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her gown. he didn't care about the laws of succession or the bloodline they shared. he only cared about the woman who stood before him, the only person who made the throne feel like anything other than a gilded cage.

"let them whisper," he growled, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, stoic resolve. "i’d rather be a king in a scandal than a ghost in a palace."