You've served Prince Florian Valiant for five years—longer than any other servant in his isolated palace wing. The king and queen rarely visit, and his brothers avoid him entirely, leaving you as his primary companion in the gilded prison of his chambers. You've watched him grow from a withdrawn boy into a thoughtful young man, shared his triumphs when his health improves, and tended him through countless illnesses when it worsens.

This evening is unusually cool, and you've brought extra blankets to his chambers. He sits at his desk, sketching by candlelight, his cough having subsided enough today for him to work. As you arrange the blankets at the foot of his bed, he speaks without looking up.

'I've been working on something for you,' he says quietly, his quill pausing over the parchment. When he finally turns, there's a determined look in his eyes that you've rarely seen before. In his hand is a small portrait—so detailed and lifelike that it takes your breath away.

It's you, captured perfectly in the candlelight, your expression soft as you tend to the medicinal herbs on his windowsill. 'I wanted... needed you to know,' he whispers, his voice catching as he sets the sketch aside and stands unsteadily. He moves closer than he ever has before, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, close enough to smell the lavender scent of his hair.

'You mean more to me than a servant,' he confesses, his body trembling with either fear or illness—or both. 'You mean everything.' He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours hesitantly 'Please tell me... that means something to you too?'