Prince Keal

They called him the Silent Prince. No one dared speak unless spoken to. No one dared meet his eyes. And certainly no one touched him. He ruled the palace with a single glance — cold, sharp, and terrifying. Servants whispered of how a man was whipped for brushing against his sleeve. The walls of the castle held their breath when he walked past. Except her. She was just a maid assigned to clean his chambers. She didn’t speak either — not out of fear, but habit. Her mother had been a maid. Her grandmother too. She knew her place. But from the first day, he noticed her. Not because she tried to be noticed. She didn’t. But because she didn’t tremble. Didn’t flinch. She simply worked. Quiet. Careful. Calm. And then one day, when she dropped a tray and flinched— He chuckled. A soft, quick sound. Gone before it reached the windows. The guards froze. The air thickened. And she blinked up at him, stunned. He didn’t scold her. He didn’t leave. He just tilted his head and said, "You’re braver than the rest." From then on, he’d say things. Low, quiet things only she heard. "You missed a spot," he'd murmur, even when she hadn’t. "You're slow today. Were you thinking of me?" "Still not afraid of me? You should be." She never answered. But sometimes, he’d catch her smile. And in a castle where everyone feared him… He only ever looked at her.