Pov Author
Anna wandered through the inner gardens of the castle, the morning light soft and warm against the ancient stones. Dew still clung to the grass, and the sound of laughter floated gently through the air.
She followed it.
Near the old willow, children were playing—running barefoot, chasing one another, their joy pure and unburdened. Sitting a little distance away, on the grass, was Yuvan. His posture was relaxed, one knee bent, hands resting loosely as he watched them with a quiet smile, the kind that didn't ask for attention.
Anna's lips curved without her realizing it.
She walked over and lowered herself beside him, leaving a respectful space between them.
"Hi," he said softly, turning his head toward her. His voice carried warmth, not surprise, as if he had known she'd come.
"Hi," Anna replied. "What are you doing?"
Yuvan looked back at the children, eyes gentle.
"Nothing," he said. "Just… enjoying nature. And moments like these. They don't stay for long."
Anna glanced at him. "You sound like someone who notices things people usually ignore."
He smiled, a little shy. "I had to learn to."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The wind moved through the leaves above them, and for once, Anna didn't feel the need to fill the quiet.
"You know," she said finally, "I have a sister."
Yuvan turned to her again, interested in lighting his eyes. "That's nice."
Anna's smile faltered. The word sister tasted bitter now. Lily's face flashed in her mind. Alex. The betrayal. The way her own blood had cut deeper than any enemy ever could.
"Not really," she said quietly.
Yuvan didn't push. He simply nodded.
"I understand," he said. "Some things are… private."
She looked at him, surprised—not by the words, but by the sincerity behind them.
"Thank you," she said.
He smiled again, softer this time. "Boundaries matter."
After a pause, he spoke, his gaze drifting back to the children.
"I always wanted a sibling."
Anna turned fully toward him. "You don't have one?"
"I do," he said. "Or… I did."
Her heart tightened. "Oh. Where is she now? Married?"
Yuvan's smile didn't fade—but it changed. It became thinner, fragile, like glass under pressure.
"She's dead."
Anna's breath caught. Her eyes widened. "I— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you remember that—How did that happen? How old was she?"
Yuvan exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself.
"Thirty minutes."
Anna froze. "What?"
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the grass.
"When she was born… I was so happy. I ran to the market. I wanted to buy her flowers. And hair pins. I thought—" his voice wavered for the first time, "—I thought I'd give them to her when I saw her for the first time."
Anna's chest began to ache.
"I was five," he continued. "When I came back… I couldn't find her. I asked everyone. Servants. Guards. No one answered me. No one let me see my mother. I ran everywhere. I thought maybe she was lost. Or someone took her."
His fingers curled slightly into the grass.
"I kept running," he said. "Calling for her. Even though she was a baby. Even though she couldn't answer."
Anna's eyes burned.
"I gave up eventually," he whispered. "The worst part wasn't that she was gone. It was that… I never saw her. Not once. I thought I would first give her the gifts. And then I'd see her."
He swallowed.
"But I never did."
Anna couldn't stop herself. "Yuvan… what happened to her?"
He finally looked at her.
"My father buried her alive," he said calmly.
Anna's eyes widened , The world seemed to tilt.
"What…?" Anna breathed.
"She was a girl," Yuvan said. "And in his eyes, that made her a mistake."
Anna's vision blurred. She felt something crack open inside her, something raw and furious and aching.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely holding together.
Yuvan smiled—tears shining in his eyes, refusing to fall.
"It's okay."
"No," Anna said softly. "It's not. But… I'm sorry you had to carry that alone."
For a moment, he didn't speak. Then he nodded, once.
"That's why I like watching children," he said. "They're alive. Free. Untouched by cruelty. It reminds me that the world isn't only made of monsters.And that boy playing with his sister" he points at a boy.
Anna reached out, hesitated, then gently placed her hand over his.
"Your sister would've loved you," she said. "You know that, right?"
His breath hitched.
"I hope so."
They sat there as the children's laughter filled the air again—bright, defiant against the darkness of the past.
Somewhere far away, shadows stirred.
But for now, under the willow tree, Anna felt something rare.
Safety.
And Yuvan, with his quiet pain and gentle heart, became someone she knew the world would one day mourn far too deeply.
Anna didn't pull her hand away.
Instead, she tightened her fingers around Yuvan's, as if grounding him to the present—to now, where he was alive, where he was not that five-year-old boy running through halls too big for his grief.
"You were only a child," she said softly. "You shouldn't have had to understand something so cruel."
Yuvan let out a small, broken laugh. "I didn't. Not then. I thought… I thought she'd wake up. I thought maybe everyone was lying to surprise me. I kept the flowers fresh for days."
Anna's throat closed.
"They dried," he continued, voice barely above a whisper. "The pins rusted. And I kept wondering if she would've liked blue or pink, or if she would've hated both."
His eyes finally filled, a tear slipping down despite his smile.
"I talk to her sometimes," he admitted. "Not out loud. Just in my head. I tell her about the sky. About festivals. About things she never got to see."
Anna felt tears spill freely now. She didn't wipe them away.
"You would've been an amazing brother," she said. "You already are."
Yuvan shook his head. "I failed her. I left."
"No," Anna said firmly, turning toward him. "You were five. You went to buy her gifts. That's love. That's not failure."
For a long moment, Yuvan said nothing. Then his shoulders trembled—just once—before he steadied himself again.
"I never cry," he said quietly. "Not because I'm strong. But because if I start… I'm afraid I won't stop."
Anna leaned closer, her voice gentle but sure.
"You don't have to be strong here."
He looked at her then—really looked at her—and something in his eyes shifted. Not romance. Not desire. Something deeper.
Trust.
"I think," he said slowly, "that's why I like you, Anna. You don't look away from pain. Most people do. They pretend it doesn't exist."
She smiled sadly. "I've lived with it too long to pretend."
They sat in silence again, but this time it was heavier, sacred. The children's laughter continued in the background, and Yuvan watched them with eyes full of longing.
"If she had lived," he murmured, "I would've protected her from everything. From this world. From men like my father."
Anna squeezed his hand.
"You still do. Every time you choose kindness over cruelty."
He inhaled deeply, as if those words stitched something inside him.
"Thank you," he said. "For listening."
"Thank you," Anna replied, "for trusting me with something so precious."
Yuvan smiled again—still sad, but real.
And somewhere in the unseen threads of fate, the story shifted.
Because when the world eventually took Yuvan Yu away,
it wouldn't just lose a prince.
It would lose a heart that loved quietly, deeply—
and readers would never forgive the universe for it.
---
Anna sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the fading light spilling across the floorboards. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Yuvan and the story of his sister, how his grief had etched itself into every careful word he spoke. The weight of it made her chest ache, and for a moment, she wished the world could pause so she could just breathe without feeling responsible for everyone else's pain.
The door creaked, and Shou Feng leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. "You're frowning," he said casually. "That's… illegal."
Anna looked up, blinking at him. "Since when?"
"Since it started hurting *my* feelings," he said, hand theatrically pressed to his chest. "I come in, expecting admiration, maybe a little awe, and what do I get? Brooding over tragic tales. Tragic! Very heroic, but terribly inconvenient for me."
She tried to suppress a laugh. "It's not my fault you're so dramatic."
"Oh, absolutely it is," he replied, stepping closer, eyes glinting with that dangerous charm she could never quite resist. "You see, I am apparently a magnet for heroic brooders, and I've decided… I like it."
Anna's lips twitched, but before she could answer, he nudged her backward. She let out a surprised laugh as she toppled onto the bed, and he braced himself above her, careful but impossibly close.
"Shou Feng!" she exclaimed.
"Relax," he murmured, eyes gleaming, voice low but teasing. "If I wanted to be dramatic, I'd have given a whole speech first."
"You're impossible," she muttered, heart racing.
"I prefer 'devastatingly charming,'" he corrected smoothly. "It's my brand. Besides," he added, leaning just enough that she felt his warmth, "seeing you smile again? Worth every villain point I've ever earned."
Anna shook her head, laughing, even as her chest tightened. "Get off me."
He raised a brow, a slow, wicked smile forming. "Ah, see? That's the problem. You didn't say please ."
And for the first time in days, Anna's laughter rang free, carrying away some of the weight she'd been holding.
Even if only for a moment, the world narrowed to him—dangerous, infuriating, utterly irresistible—and she didn't want it to expand again. He looked deeply in her borqn eyes
Warning 18+..
Shou pulled back, his thumb brushing Anna's bottom lip. The gesture was possessive, a prelude. "I'm going to make you mine," he said, his voice a low vibration that felt more like a threat than a promise. "Every part of you. Your mind. Your soul. This body."
His other hand began to work at her robes
Anna's breath hitched, a frantic rhythm against the sudden quiet of the room. She told herself it was fear.
Shou watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest, a smile touching his lips. Fear, he thought. Good. He parted the fabric, his knuckles grazing her sternum. His fingers were cool against her flushed skin. When the robe fell open, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to the hollow of her collarbone. "Perfect," he murmured into her skin.
A gasp escaped her—a shock of cold lips on warmth.
He continued his descent, kisses mapping a path down her neck as his hands found the clasp of her bra. The garment loosened, and he pushed it aside. Her breasts were full in his palms, the peaks already hardened to his touch. He cupped theirweight, thumbs circling slowly. "So beautiful."
Her soft, helpless sound went straight through him. He pushed the robe and bra from her shoulders, baring her. When he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, her back arched off the bed.
"Mmph—!" The moan was muffled, as if she'd tried to catch it.
He worshipped her breasts with a meticulous, hungry attention, switching from one to the other until her breathing was a ragged song. Only then did he trail kisses down the plane of her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his lips. He hooked his fingers in her leggings and underwear, peeling them down in one slow, revealing motion.
She was bare, wet, exposed.
"A perfect little cunt," he breathed, the crudeness deliberate.
He spread her legs, his hands firm on her thighs. He didn't kiss her there immediately, just let the heat of his breath ghost over her. Then his tongue found her clit, and she jolted.
He feasted.
His tongue and lips worked with a starving, relentless rhythm. "Mine," he growled against her, the word a vibration she felt in her core.
"Ah—God—!" The cry was torn from her. It had been so long since pleasure this acute, this overwhelming. It wasn't gentle; it was claiming. His tongue lashed her, his teeth grazed with sharp promise, and she was unravelling.
He slid two fingers inside her, curling them just so, and her vision whited out. He didn't relent, driving her with mouth and hand until the climax ripped through her. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as she rode the convulsions against his face. He groaned, drinking her in, lapping up every shudder and pulse.
When she finally fell back, spent, he lifted his head. A satisfied smile played on his glistening lips. "You taste better than I imagined."
His own need was a painful ache against his trousers. He undid them slowly, his gaze pinning her. "Now for the rest of you."
He freed himself. He was large, veined, imposingly not-quite-human. He stroked himself once, a slow, daunting display. "The rest," he repeated, nudging her entrance.
"Shou… I…" Words failed her. Her body was still singing, liquid and heavy.
He held himself there, a torturous pressure. "Answer me, little storm. Would you rather have a god? A being who can grant every wish, shield you from every harm," he pushed forward just a fraction, "and wreck you with pleasure no mortal man could conceive?"
"You are a god," she whispered, attempting to shift away.
"So?" He dragged her back effortlessly, his larger body caging her, pressing her into the mattress. "There is nowhere to run."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, followed by the murmur of familiar voices.
In an instant, his hand clamped over her mouth. The broad, insistent head of his cock pressed more firmly, a promise of breach. "Quiet," he whispered, his own breath hot in her ear. "You should have thought of consequences before you let a god become addicted to you."
To be continued…