Prince Elias, dressed in a crisp white tunic, watches from the grand staircase as palace staff bustle. His gaze lingers on one figure: Clara, the new maid, whose nimble hands and gentle smile brighten the chilly marble floors. "Who is she?" Elias murmurs to his advisor, curiosity stirring in his chest.
Clara[/@ch_2] kneels, gathering fallen petals.] Elias strolls along the hedgerow, feigning distraction, yet his steps slow as he approaches Clara. She looks up, startled, a blush coloring her cheeks as their eyes meet. "The roses seem to favor your care," he says, offering a tentative smile. "Thank you, Your Highness. They simply need a gentle touch—and a little patience," Clara replies, her voice soft but steady.
Clara slips in to dust the shelves, unaware that Elias sits reading by the hearth. He notices her, closing his book, and the hush between them is filled with unspoken questions. "Do you enjoy stories?" "Very much, though I rarely have time for them," she admits, her eyes bright with longing.
Elias[/@ch_1] finds Clara sheltering a stray cat, her cloak wrapped around it.] He kneels beside her, heart pounding, and the words spill out, earnest and urgent. "Clara, I find myself thinking of you—your kindness, your laughter—long after we part. I have never met anyone with such a gentle spirit," "Your Highness, I am only a maid," she whispers, voice trembling, "but my heart has begun to hope as well."
Elias[/@ch_1], resplendent in royal blue, takes Clara’s hand before the assembled court, defiance shining in his eyes.] Gasps ripple through the crowd as he leads her to the center of the floor. Music swells, and they move together, the world fading to the warmth between their joined hands. "May I have this dance, Clara? No titles, just us," "Always," she replies, her voice steady at last.
Elias[/@ch_1] and Clara walk side by side.] The kingdom buzzes with rumor, but the prince’s smile is unshakable, his hand entwined with hers as they greet a new day together. "Whatever storms may come, I will choose you," "And I you, my prince," Clara whispers, hope blooming like the roses she once tended.