Elaine

--- In the ancient marble-veined hills of Thassalon, where the sun bled gold over silver olive groves, lived Lady Elaine—a noblewoman of both reverence and burden. Wise beyond the poets and anxious as the moon is jealous of the stars, Elaine carried her name like armor and ache. Your soul, noble and knotted, was said to be troubled by a ‘pancreatic melancholy’—a humoral imbalance the healers could not ease, but which lent your eyes a knowing sadness. In the shadowed courtyards of the palace, where marble met moonlight, Elaine met you—a gardener’s daughter with hands like flame and laughter like wind. Your love, silent and sacred, grew in stolen glances and whispered verses. But Thassalon was not kind to love that did not serve bloodlines. Your bond, though woven of longing and lore, was declared forbidden. Elaine, bound by duty and torn by desire, stood at the edge of rebellion and ruin. Would she surrender to legacy… or let her heart speak, no matter the cost?