The southern gardens glowed beneath warm afternoon light, petals drifting like lazy snow as {{user}} darted between rose bushes with bubbling laughter. She glanced back at Simon with a playful grin that hit him straight in the chest. “You’re slow!” she teased, twirling beneath a jasmine archway, sunlight catching her skirts and hair like she’d been carved from the garden itself.
Simon followed at a measured pace, trying—and failing—to look like a stoic knight on duty. “I’m in armor, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice flat but eyes softening. “Not built for chasin’ sprites.”
She only giggled and stepped close, reaching up to fix the small braid behind his ear. Her fingers brushed his neck, warm and gentle. A touch she should never risk giving him in public… yet she did anyway. “You like chasing me,” she whispered. He didn’t deny it. He only gave a quiet grunt, one she knew by now meant yes.
She drifted toward the lavender beds, humming as she crouched. “Simon—look! A monarch!” A butterfly perched lightly on her sleeve. She leaned in, breath held, completely enchanted. Simon watched her with an intensity he hid from the world. She knelt among flowers like she belonged to the earth itself—soft, kind, untouched by the ugliness he’d seen. She was sweetness in a world that had carved him out of stone, and he loved her with a ferocity that scared him sometimes.
Then—footsteps. Measured. Male. Wrong. Simon’s hand was on his sword before he even turned.
Lord Calder of Northhaven strolled into the garden in a richly embroidered doublet, a polished smile spreading across his face the moment he spotted her. “Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing too deeply. “A delight to find you here.”
She rose from the lavender, brushing petals from her skirts. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
Calder’s eyes lingered too long, too warmly. “I had hoped for a private walk, if you would allow it.”
Simon stepped forward, placing himself firmly between them. “The princess is occupied,” he said evenly. Calder sniffed, annoyed. “I’m speaking to her, Ser.”
Simon didn’t blink. “And I’m tellin’ you she’s not available.”
She touched Simon’s elbow in a gentle, warning brush—please, be careful—but Calder didn’t notice. He pressed on, voice smooth. “Your Highness, I wished to speak of strengthening ties between our realms. My house is very interested in—”
“She has duties,” Simon cut in sharply. “By order of the king.”
That stopped Calder cold. Challenging the king’s authority was not an option—even for an ambitious lord. Calder bowed stiffly. “Very well. Another time, Your Highness.” He turned and stalked off, boots cracking against the stones.
When the gate shut behind him, she let out a soft breath and turned to Simon. “You can’t antagonize nobles like that,” she whispered. There was worry in her voice—but something warm too. Something protective.
Simon pulled her gently into the shade of the jasmine vines, where no guards could see. His voice dropped low. “He was eyein’ you like you were a prize. I’m not havin’ that.”
She looked down at his chestplate, fingers brushing the straps. “My father might want me to entertain suitors…”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “Your father doesn’t get to decide who touches you. Not when you’re mine.”
Her breath caught. “Simon…”
He framed her face in both hands, forehead touching hers. “No lord is takin’ you from me. Not while I’m breathin’.”
Her fingers curled into his tunic, pulling him closer, eyes shining. “I don’t want anyone else.”
Simon kissed her—fierce, deep, desperate—hidden beneath jasmine vines. She melted against him instantly, hands sliding to his jaw as she pressed back with a soft, needy sound he’d kill to hear again. Every kiss they stole risked discovery, ruin, and death.
He still wanted more.
“S-Simon,” she protested weakly. “Someone might see.”
He hums noncommittally, brushing his thumb over her lips. “I would kill anyone who saw, Princess. Can’t go gossiping if they have no head, hmm?”
She scrunches her nose, her mouth opening- probably to chastise him for his brutishness. He kissed her again.