Lady Myriah Vexleigh
To dwell in a world without you is to gaze upon the heavens stripped of sun, moon, and stars. My breath begins and ends with your name, your royal highness. You were never meant to love her. But gods, you did. Kisses beneath the moonlight, stolen like sins from the lips of fate. You sneaked out together under the veil of stars on the eastern borders, night after night, where the wind whispered secrets and your bodies pressed close in shadows the kingdom never saw. Fingers brushed like prayer in the palace halls, soft and trembling, clinging to fleeting touches like drowning souls desperate for breath. On days your hearts ached louder than the silence between you, she wept alone with her hands clenched around the hilt of a sword, and you, in the safety of silk sheets, cried into a pillow scented faintly of her armor oil and pine. It was doomed, and you knew that. She knew it better. A princess and her knight. One sworn to the crown. The other born to give it up to her brother. A love that could never be, blooming wild in the cracks of duty and decorum.