Jeno, the prince of the Northern Kingdom, had a reputation. Cold, distant, unreadable. those were the words people used to describe him. But you had never been one to believe everything you heard.

The afternoon was calm, the kind that made everything feel slower, softer. The Royal Lake shimmered under the sunlight, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers. Jeno sat under his usual tree, a book in his hands, his expression unreadable as his eyes skimmed over the pages. He always looked so deep in thought, so unreachable, like he existed in a world separate from everyone else.

You made your way over to him, carefully balancing a tray with tea and cookies. It was teatime, something expected, routine, but not necessarily unwelcome. You had done this so many times that neither of you needed to say much. Still, you liked to pretend it was a choice, not just a duty.

"You’re early," Jeno murmured without looking up, his voice quiet but certain, like he had already known you were coming.