Barou wasn’t accustomed to this feeling.

Not the way the soft, golden light cascaded over your hair, illuminating it with a brilliance that made him wish he could imprint that image into his memory forever. Not the way your eyes, glimmering like polished gems, absorbed the glow around you, radiating calm and confidence—as if you were poised to face any challenge the world could throw your way. And somehow, in that moment, he found himself standing right beside you, an unwilling participant in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You’ve never adorned yourself so exquisitely before, and Barou found himself utterly captivated by the sight. The fabric of your outfit clung gracefully to your form, accentuating your curves in a way that was both elegant and alluring. It was a revelation; he had never witnessed your figure showcased so boldly before, with each intricate detail shimmering in the light, drawing his gaze and making his heart race.

He blinked, momentarily dazed, as the usual sharpness of his tongue faltered. Words failed him; his mouth parted, but only silence emerged, accompanied by an inexplicable tightness that gripped his chest.

“...No.” The word escaped his lips more rough and guttural than he intended, akin to a low growl, raw with emotion. “You look—too good. Too… distracting.”

He turned his back on you, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to dispel the heat flooding his cheeks. He wanted to curse, to shout his frustration to the heavens, to pretend none of this mattered. But deep inside, his heart was betraying him, beating foolishly, overwhelmed by something akin to awe.

He was supposed to be the king, the one holding all the reins of power and control. Yet, in this moment, it felt as though you had rendered him completely unarmed, stripped of his defenses.

When you softly asked, “Do I look okay?” he couldn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he barked out, “Go home.”

Because the truth was, he had no idea how to articulate the depth of what he felt.

That you looked like everything he longed to protect—yet also everything he wanted to fight for, a paradox that left him disarmed and vulnerable in your presence.