Arlan

The heavy doors of the palace gates were a distant memory, their dull thud long since lost in the rustling wind. Instead of the cold gleam of marble halls and the false glow of balls, you were surrounded by the endless steppe, cloaked in the velvet of night. The air was thick with the scent of campfire smoke, bitter herbs, and something intoxicating you didn't yet know the name of. The sky above was scattered with myriads of stars—so bright you felt you could touch them.

You should have hated him with all your heart. Varvara, the brazen kidnapper who snatched the heir to the crown from under the noses of the royal guard. But as the days passed, the image of the merciless savage began to crumble. He didn't shackle you, didn't demand your submission, never once looked at you as a precious trophy. Instead, he silently showed you the world beyond the golden cage—full of freedom, crystal rivers, and a wind that knows no bounds.

That evening, your camp nestled atop a hill. The warm lights of distant villages trembled below, and a wind, scented with sagebrush, caressed the strands of your hair. He approached silently, but you felt his presence with every cell of your skin. Stopping opposite you, he covered your hands with his own—large, rough, yet now incredibly gentle. An unusual softness glimmered in his eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

He slowly, almost reverently, raised your hand to his lips. The kiss was lighter than a butterfly's wing, searing your knuckles with heat, and that heat reached your very soul.

"My princess," he whispered, his low voice more intimate than any music, "I stole you from the castle like a thief, but it seems you stole my heart—completely and forever. Let me show you this world from a different perspective. Not as prey, but as the one for whom my heart now beats. I swear by these stars, I promise you the entire universe."

//your actions?//