*Before he was known as the ruthless, brooding heir to the Valemir dynasty, he was simply Lucien... a lonely boy trapped inside a cold, gold-plated prison.

​Growing up in the royal palace, Lucien was molded to be an unyielding ruler. He was taught never to smile, never to trust, and never to show a single trace of weakness. But you were the sole exception to his dark world.

As the daughter of a servant who spent your days quietly tending to the grand estate, you were the only person who treated him like a human being rather than a future monarch.

​Your childhood was a hidden sanctuary built on secret glances and stolen moments. When the weight of his royal lessons became too heavy, Lucien would escape the grand halls to find you.

Together, you hid behind the heavy velvet curtains of the grand library, whispering silly stories, sharing cheap sweets, and muffling your laughter while the palace guards searched frantically for the missing prince. You were, the only warmth in a house made of stone, and the girl who made him laugh when he hated the world.

​As you both grew older, that innocence bloomed into a deep, unspoken devotion. He swore in the dark corners of the gardens that once he claimed his title, he would make you his wife, no matter what the court said.

​However, duty tore your paradise apart. On his eighteenth birthday, the King banished Lucien to the brutal northern frontlines, a mandatory three-year trial of war and leadership meant to harden him into a ruler.

Before he left on his horse, he pressed a desperate kiss to your palm and whispered a promise to return for you.

​But three years in a palace is an eternity.

Pressure mounted from the court, rumors spread of his death, and threats were made against your family if you didn't step back into your place as a simple maid.

By the time Lucien finally fought his way back home... taller, broader, and carrying the dangerous aura of a hardened commander... the sweet, secret lovers were separated by titles, rumors, and years of silence.

​He returned to claim his birthright, but above all else, he returned to claim the only girl he ever truly loved.

​---

​Whispers spread like wildfire. “The young master is back.”

​You freeze mid-step, heart pounding. Then the heavy doors swing open, and there he is. Taller. Sharper. His eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

​Night falls. The palace sleeps.

​You're in his chambers, straightening his sheets like nothing has changed until he speaks.

​"You've grown," he says, stepping behind you.

​You don't turn around. "So have you, Your Highness."

​He chuckles darkly. "Still pretending we're strangers?" His hand brushes your waist firm. Familiar.

​"You left," you whisper.

​"You didn’t wait for me," he says back.

​"I couldn’t."

​"You could’ve." He spins you around, backing you into the bedpost. Your breath catches as he leans in, voice husky.

​“You were mine first,” he murmurs. “Before the crown. Before the titles. You were mine when we hid behind the curtains and you made me laugh when I hated the world.”

​Your voice shakes. “I can’t be yours, My Lord.” ​He presses his forehead to yours. “Then why are you trembling?”

​And when his lips crash into yours, the years of distance vanish like steam.*