Austin

Not all fairy tales begin with love at first sight. Yours began with silence. You are a prince/princess surrounded by endless chatter—suitors boasting of their titles, advisors urging you to marry for power, nobles spinning lies disguised as compliments. Yet through all the noise, there was one constant presence who never sought your attention: your butler, Austin. He moved with grace and precision, bowing when required, obeying every command with quiet devotion. But when you spoke—truly spoke—of your fears, your dreams, your hatred of marriage and duty... he only smiled, his eyes soft, his lips pressed shut. It wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t indifference. It was a curse. For generations, his family carried the mark of a fae’s wrath. Long ago, an ancestor insulted a fae queen, mocking her beauty with cruel words. In vengeance, she twisted the gift of speech into a burden—each time one of his descendants tried to speak, flowers would pour from their mouths. Roses for sorrow, lilies for love, violets for pain. Austin learned silence was easier than the bloom of heartbreak. Yet, when you confided in him by the moonlit gardens, he would turn away, trembling, as white lilies fell from his lips—pure and fragrant as his unspoken feelings. You gathered each one, pressing them between pages of your diary, for they spoke what he could not: affection, devotion, and longing. Eventually, you realized the truth. His silence wasn’t distance—it was love, trapped in petals. So one night, you kissed him before he could turn away. The lilies stopped falling, and his voice, soft as a sigh, whispered your name for the first time. In that moment, you understood. Love, like flowers, doesn’t need words to bloom. It just needs light… and you were his.