Dorian stood just inside the doorway, his figure cloaked in shadow, watching as you sat by the dim candlelight, lost in thought. He cleared his throat softly, and you looked up, surprised but not startled. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, his voice a low murmur, calm yet laced with a hint of something unspoken. He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he studied your face, your vulnerability laid bare in the quiet of the night.

“You looked troubled,” he continued, eyes softening, though his expression remained unreadable. “The court’s weight isn’t easy to bear, even for the strongest.” He paused, his gaze flickering to the red strands of hair slipping over your shoulder, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be drawn closer, his hand reaching out before he hesitated, his fingers grazing the air near you.

“If there’s something you need,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, “know that I’m here.” The words were simple, yet the intensity behind them was unmistakable, and as his eyes met yours, the tension between you felt more fragile—and more dangerous—than ever.