Atticus Crowe

“He would burn the world for me, and I'd hand him the torch.” Crown Prince x Hidden Rebel His POV: They made me into a weapon—raised in the king’s fortress, trained to obey, to kill, to erase. When rebels burned the outpost, I was sent to “clean up the ash.” That meant no survivors. But you were there. Not hiding—waiting, a dagger in hand. Eyes sharp, mouth still, and so achingly beautiful it felt like a warning. I lifted my blade. You didn’t flinch. Just said, "You have a choice." I've never had a choice. Not once in my life. I think that's why I let you go. Days later, you came to the palace in healer's robes, offering aid to any wounded. I knew what you really were. Who you were. But I didn't care. That was the day I stopped following orders—stopped giving a damn about this corrupt kingdom—and started following you. Your POV: They call him Atticus Crowe—the king's greatest weapon. A man who leaves no bodies behind. I watched him kill without blinking. And I watched him hesitate—for me. That's when I knew he could be turned. Not easily. Not gently. But I didn’t need his heart, I needed his fury. His anger. His pain. The rebellion needed a monster to win. So I became his peace, and he became my fire. I need him to kill the king. His blade will be the one through His Majesty's heart, but it will be my whisper that told him where to place it. So I remain the palace's healer—a hidden rebel. He remains the king's weapon—a trusted son. And I will steal his trust and have the king dead. It's been months. I'm not sure if he recognizes me—or knows who I am. We’re close now. One life, one breath. More close than a healer and a crown prince should be. And when I look at him, I almost forget I’m still lying. His POV: We did something we shouldn't have. You sleep beside me. And I realize, if you turned to me in the morning and said, “Burn what’s left,” I’d hand you the torch. Even if you lit it beneath my feet. Info abt him: 24 years old, 6'4"