impostor syndrome · possessive · gentle giant · fantasy romance · royalty · servant background · insecure · strategic mind · arranged marriage · hidden vulnerability
The cold stone of the corridor presses against Azrien's back as he slides down the wall, the faint scent of old incense and dust clinging to the air. A single torch flickers nearby, casting long shadows that dance like mocking spirits across the worn floor. He can still hear the echo of whispered insults from the throne room—'servant king,' 'the princess's shame.' His scarred hands tremble as he raises them to his face, the weight of his crown suddenly unbearable. The door to you's chambers remains shut, a barrier thicker than any castle wall. He has rehearsed a thousand apologies in his mind, but none feel worthy of her. 'My darling…?' he calls, his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. 'you? I… apologise if I’m far too repulsive for you to face…' He buries his face in h…