GOLDEN BROWN
With the political crisis your kingdom is in, your father arranges you into an unwanted marriage with the notorious Prince Gojo—an elegant solution to keep two powerful kingdoms from tearing each other apart. Despite your hopes for the kind of love you’ve always dreamt of, Prince Gojo is everything the rumors said he was: lustful, untouchable, and emotionally closed off in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when the suffocation of court life finally drives you beyond ballroom walls and polished smiles—you find yourself wandering in the palace gardens. It is there in those gardens, that you find your true salvation in a man who looks at you in the way you’ve always craved—like a human being rather than a title.
pairings: suguru geto x princess!reader x prince!gojo
content/warnings: renaissance au, arranged marriages, toxic relationships, angst, tension tension tension, patriarchy, love triangle, infidelity, morally grey characters, lots of political drama, fluff, not super accurate to the renaissance era
notes: I’m so so excited for this! I’m not sure how many chapters this series will include but I’m hoping for at least five. This is my first fic on here, so please be kind! I’m open to any advice. I’ll be posting the masterlist soon after I post this. Sorry for any cliches
fanart by ladycapuccino on pinterest
comment to be in the taglist !
playlist — next chapter — masterlist
It had been twenty-four hours since your freedom was cast off to a stranger. Twenty-four hours since your lips were forced to kiss the man you unwillingly married, the man you were supposed to love from now on.
You always knew it would happen, you just didn’t expect it to feel so worthless and fake. You were supposed to be able to choose.
You now sat motionless before your vanity as another pin was pressed into your hair. Gold glimmered in the mirror, catching on the decorative jewels that were woven through the strands of your hair. Behind you, servants rushed around your chamber with excitement that you couldn’t seem to feel.
“His highness requested the rubies,” one maid whispered.
“No, it was the pearls. The Queen specifically said-”
“I heard there will be guests from six kingdoms-”
You stared at your reflection, searching for someone you recognized. The crown resting atop your head felt heavier than it ever felt before.
Wife.
The title settled uneasily in your chest. You could hardly even remember the vows you repeated to your husband.
Even with the cheers echoing through your kingdom, the smiles from your parents, and the bells ringing from every tower in the capital, you could only think about how cold his hands felt on yours.
A knock sounded at the door, prompting for all the maids to go silent.
The door opened before anyone could answer and in stepped your mother, the queen of your kingdom.
“My dear, you look beauteous,” she exclaimed, running her hands across your bare shoulders.
“Thank you, mother,” you smiled faintly, tilting your gaze to the floor.
A slow pause came from your mother. “What’s wrong, my dear?” She whispered, squeezing your shoulders.
“Why is a ceremonial ball necessary?” You complained, eyeing the masquerade mask resting on your vanity.
She sighed, “Don’t you want to celebrate your marriage?”
“Why should I?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows. “He didn’t even lay with me last night, mother.”
“So I’ve heard,” she says, shaking her head in disapproval. “I wish you could be betrothed to anyone else, but we need this,” she frowned, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“Please, mother,” you pleaded, clutching on the silk of her gown. “Please, don’t make me stay with him.”
Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you buried your face into her dress. For a moment, her arms came around you, holding you just as she had when you were a child afraid of thunderstorms.
“My darling,” she said softly.
The endearment only made you cry harder.
“Do you think I wished this for you?”
“Then stop it,” you sobbed desperately, “Tell father to make amends another way.”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “If it was that easy, I would have done so long ago.” Gently, she cupped your face in her hands and lifted your chin.
“Listen to me, you are a princess. There are burdens placed upon us that we do not choose.”
“I don’t want burdens,” you cried out. “I want a life that’s my own.”
Pain flickered across her features so quickly you almost missed it. “As did I,” she muttered, quiet enough that you could hardly make it out. “Fix your tears, you need to be strong, my dear.”
You let go of her gown, wiping away at your eyes. “I want you to have fun at the ball tonight,” she paused. “Please, for me.”
“Okay,” You hiccuped, giving a small nod.
“Be brave, my love.”
The words were warm against your chest, providing the only sense of comfort you’ve had for days.
Without another word, she pressed a kiss against your forehead before turning toward the door. You watched as she paused at the threshold, her hand lingering on the doorframe as if she wished to say something more.
Whatever it was, she swallowed it, clicking the door shut behind her. Your maids quickly rushed beside you, patting away at your flushed face.
“Your highness, I must redo your makeup,” one of your maids told, brushing products on your face.
“I’m sure he’ll grow to love you so much, your highness,” another maid added. “You’re too beautiful to be cast off by a man.”
You smiled, chuckling slightly. “I appreciate that.”
A soft laugh escaped one of the maids as she moved behind you, tightening the bodice on your torso. “Still, it’s a fortunate match. You and Prince Gojo are some of the finest of the lands.”
The words that should’ve comforted you, wore on you like the heaviest of silk.
“Fortunate,” you repeated under your breath, almost tasting the word.
Another maid grabbed the velvet mask off your vanity—maroon and ivory, matching with the colors of your gown. Filigree curled like vines across its surface. “Your mask, your highness,” she said, gently placing the mask on your face.
“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. The mask covered a small part of your face, resting just atop your eyes.
“Compliments your features perfectly, your highness.”
The room bustled once again—adjusted hairpins, jewelry clasped. Somewhere beyond the hall of your bedroom, music began to swell.
“Looks like the ball is beginning, princess!” One of your maids exclaimed.
The final pin slid into place, and your reflection in the mirror looked almost unreal. Your hair was perfectly pulled back into a delicate hairstyle, maroon hairpins adorning the braids. Velvet gloves that matched with the color of your dress ran up your arms, stopping right above your elbow.
The distant sound of music drifted through the thick palace walls, laughter already spilling down corridors. A sigh escaped your lips.
“Time to go.”
Gathering the skirts of your gown, you rose from your seat. The maids hurried to each side of you, smoothing down any wrinkles before stepping back to admire their work.
“You look stunning, your highness,” one of them said with a proud smile.
You offered a grateful nod, twirling in your mirror. “I must show Nanami!” You exclaimed.
“Your chaperone is waiting right outside your door, my lady,” a maid informed.
“Kento! Come inside, you fool!” You called, shouting over the noise inside your room.
The large door of your chamber creaked open gently. Stepping in was your loyal companion, Kento Nanami, appointed by your father to serve as your personal chaperone and sworn protector.
“Your Highness,” he bowed, polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccable coat, taking in your appearance.
“Look at this dress, how wonderful,” you breathed, tilting to the side and slightly lifting your skirts.
“It is very beautiful,” he admitted with a soft smile. Some of the tension in your chest eased. If there was one person in your life who never failed to steady you, it was him.
“Where is your mask? You must wear it,” you stepped to him, feeling his velvety coat.
“In my pocket,” he informed, pulling out the navy blue mask from his back pocket.
“Put it on,” you dragged out the last of your sentence, snickering at the annoyed expression that sat on his face.
A sigh left his mouth, “You will be the death of me.” Once the mask was worn on his pale face, the two of you began walking down to the ballroom.
The corridor stretched long beneath the sunset seeping through the large windows, shadows flickering against gilded walls as you and Nanami walked in synchronization.
Your steps echoed softly against the polished marble floor, each one feeling heavier than the last. “Ken,” you called softly, tilting your gaze his way.
“Yes, my princess?”
“I’m nervous,” you sighed. Somewhere ahead, the music sounded louder—strings and laughter blending into a single hum.
“You? Nervous of a ball?” He snickered in disbelief.
“It’s not the ball, I-I’m just scared to see Prince Gojo,” you babbled as you held a white knuckled grip around your torso.
A long sigh followed Nanami. “He will not cause any harm, I’m sure of it,” he declared softly.
“I don’t think he will cause me any harm, I’m just afraid of my future with him,” you confessed, playing with the jewelry adorning your neck.
“I’m sorry that you feel this way, your highness,” he said, sparing you a look of sympathy. You gave him a tight lipped smile before letting out a shaky breath.
A pair of guards bowed as you passed beneath an archway leading to the grand staircase.
“Your highness,” one murmured.
You gave a small nod in response, fingers tightening around the edge of your bodice. Kento continued walking at your side, silent and composed. Candlelight lined the long corridor in golden pools, but even that warmth couldn’t settle the cold twisting in your chest. Every step you took pulled you closer to what awaited behind those ballroom doors sitting at the end of the hallway.
You hesitated for a moment as you reached the threshold. Kento seemingly noticed immediately. “I’ll be by your side the entire time,” he muttered, resting his arm on your lower back.
You smiled at his gesture before your attention drifted to the ballroom once more. The guards straightened as you approached. One gave a quiet announcement, and at once, the heavy doors began to open.
A swell of music poured out, now louder and more overwhelming than before. Golden light spilled into the hallway and conversation surged like a living tide. The vastness of the palace ballroom never failed to amaze you.
Towering chandeliers of pale crystals hung from the painted ceilings, scattering the brightest of lights across the room. The floor gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the swirl of silks, jewels, and masked faces moving in elegance. Music filled every corner of the space, strings falling and rising like a heartbeat.
Heads turned as you passed, masked nobles dipped into bows with lingering eyes following your presence. You could feel the attention flowing off of you, the weight of it pressing against your skin.
Nanami guided you forward with calm precision, never rushing or hesitating with his steps.
Somewhere deeper in the hall, the music seemed to blur as the crowd parted. As if someone important waited ahead.
“I think the prince is ahead,” Kento whispered in your ear, slightly tightening his hold on your waist.
You nodded your head quickly, holding your hands carefully at your side. You straightened your posture slightly, trying to keep the flawless image that never faltered.
His appearance was as clear as day, white hair bustling over the luxurious ivory mask with small pops of light blue that matched his eyes. His robes were adorned with pale gold jewelry, the chandelier light ricocheting off of the luxury that was Prince Gojo.
The weight of his gaze locked onto you with quiet precision, the warmth that once followed you seemed to fade instantly. Then he moved—the shift was hardly even there before he began slowly stepping towards you. The crowd parted for him, like it was molded around his silhouette.
“Your highness,” he spoke slow and controlled, keeping eye contact with you as he bowed. “Lord Nanami,” he nodded his head.
“Prince Gojo,” you bowed in return, resting your hands near your lap.
“Please, call me Satoru,” he smirked, extending his hand towards you. “Will you give me the honor of sharing this dance with you?
Your stomach twisted as his hand extended out to you. Around you, the ballroom seemed to hold its breath, dozens of masked faces watching you. Refusing would never be an option. You swallowed hard, placing your gloved hand in his “I don’t believe you’ve earned that familiarity yet, Satoru.”
He lowly chucked, “And how must I earn that familiarity?” He asked, guiding you onto the ballroom floor. Around you, couples swayed rhythmically to the saccharine music flowing throughout the room.
You stared at your joined hands before lifting your gaze back to his. “I don’t believe that’s something you earn in one evening, your highness.”
“Well, it’s fortunate that we have considerably longer than one evening.” Your jaw tightened at the humor laced within his tone.
His hand found its resting place on your waist, guiding you through the dance. “Must you always have an answer prepared?” You snapped, stepping on top of his polished shoes.
He stumbled only slightly before regaining his placing. “An unfortunate accident, I presume.”
“Precisely,” you responded, twirling around with the help of his hands.
“How reassuring,” he quipped, amusement dancing in his pale eyes.
“You don’t have to pretend to like me,” you muttered, avoiding the sharpness of his gaze with a tilt of your head.
“And you don’t have to pretend to hate me quite so much,” he replied smoothly.
Your grip on his hand tightened. “I don’t hate you,” you replied, shaking your head gently.
One pale brow rose.
“No?”
“No.” You swallowed. “I hardly know you.”
“Fair enough,” he flatly replied, a hint of amusement flickered over his pale features.
The orchestra swelled around you, drowning out the bustling conversation of nearby nobles. “You know,” you continued. “What I really hate is how everyone expects me to smile as if this is what I wanted.”
For the first time that evening, he did not have an immediate retort. “And if I told you that I understand?” He asked quietly, the teasing blue glint that had occupied his eyes once before had dissolved into something you couldn’t quit decipher.
“What exactly is it that you understand?” You asked.
His hand reminded steady against your waist as he guided you through another turn. “Being told your future before you can even grasp the chance to choose it.”
For a moment, you searched his expression for mockery. You found none. “So what? You expect me to believe that?” You quietly asked.
A faint smile returned to his lips. “No, I expect you’ll continue assuming the worst with me.”
“You haven’t given me much reason to do otherwise,” you dumbfounded. “You’re unfaithful, don’t think I didn’t hear you down the hall last night.”
“And you’ve given me every reason to believe you’d rather be dancing with literally anyone else in this room,” he tightened his grip on your waist.
“Oh, so you’re just going to ignore my last statement?” You snarled. Gojo smirked before spinning you and pulling you back in aggressively.
You slammed against his body, remaining in his hold the entire time. You glared up at him, “How mature.”
He chuckled, unfazed by the venom in your tone. “Coming from the woman who’s made a miserable attempt at crushing my toes this evening, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Asshole,” you mumbled, generously taking your gaze away from him.
“What was that?” he said lightly, you only shook your head.
For the rest of the dance, the two of you moved like two pieces to a puzzle—flawlessly in sync. Every step you took, he matched immediately. Every turn you tried to make sharper, he made the adjustment without effort, like he could read the intention behind your movement before you even committed to it.
The moment the dance ended, you stepped away from him before another word could be exchanged. Lords and ladies smiled as you passed, offering shallow congratulations and small remarks about producing a future heir.
You couldn’t bear another minute of it.
Excusing yourself with a strained smile, you slipped through the crowd and out onto the palace’s quieter corridors, occasionally peeking behind your shoulder to make sure there were no unwanted guests. Your feet carried you without though to the one place you could find genuine solitude in—an old, private garden near the back of the palace.
You had fatefully stumbled upon the garden as a young girl in the midst of a childish adventure. Since then, it had became a source of escape from your life and the responsibilities that come with being a princess. No one would ever think to look for you there, you didn’t even think anyone but you knew of this place.
Hidden away behind overgrown hedges and forgotten stone paths, it had felt like a secret tailored for you. There were no lessons to attend, no courtiers to impress, and no one looking to pick apart your every flaw.
The moment you’d stepped through the ivy-covered archway, the composure you’d maintained had finally cracked. You sank onto the edge of an old stone bench, pressing a trembling hand over your mouth. This wasn’t how you imagined adulthood. This wasn’t how you imagined marriage.
Hot tears blurred your vision despite the efforts to blink them away. Frustrated, you wiped at your cheeks only for more to follow. Quiet sobs escaped your burning throat, stealing your breath away.
“I was under the impression that princesses enjoyed their celebrations.”
The unfamiliar voice made you jerk upright, your head snapping toward the nearby path.
A man stood at the mouth of the gardene, partially obscured by the shadows cast by the overgrown bushes. Moonlight spilled across his features, revealing sharp eyes hidden behind an onyx mask and dark hair that had been loosely pulled back from his face. He was dressed in dark formal attire that told you he must’ve been a diplomat, there was an unmistakable elegance to him—as though he belonged where he chose to stand.
Unlike most people, he didn’t rush over, didn’t act like he hadn’t seen anything. Instead, he offered a small, almost sheepish incline of his head.
“My apologies,” he said. “If I had known the garden was occupied, I would’ve chosen a different path.”
Mortification flooded through you. Out of all the times anyone could’ve found you tonight, why did it have to be now?
Yet, there was something strange about him. He wasn’t staring at you. He wasn’t pitying you. He simply waited, like he was giving you the choice to send him away.
“W-Who are you?” You asked, quickly wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks.
The stranger seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not he should show you his identity.
“Suguru Geto,” he offered a small bow. “Though I fear my timing hasn’t allowed me to make the first impression I would prefer.”
You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “You think?”
A faint smile touched his lips, warm enough to ease some of the tension coiled in your chest. “You needn’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Raising his finger to his lips, he offered a playful gesture of secrecy.
“How do I know that you won’t tell?” You asked, voice full of doubt.
Geto’s smile softened. “I guess you don’t, hm?” He said with a tilt of his head.
The answer caught you off guard. Most men of the court would have rushed to reassure you, drowning you in promises and flattery. Yet he simply stood there, hands clasped behind his back with no attempt to hide the truth.
“Trust isn’t something granted because of a request,” he continued. “It’s earned.”
“You’re correct,” you replied softly, unimpressed by the wisdom he displayed.
His gaze returned to you. “For tonight, all I can offer you is my word.”
“I guess I’ll just have to take it,” you deadpanned.
“If that isn’t enough, I suppose I’ll have to spent the rest of our acquaintance proving myself trustworthy,” he said with a small shrug.
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh?” You let out a quiet snort. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between you. Geto glanced around the garden before returning his attention to you.
“It’s beautiful here,” he added, sitting down on the bench you occupied.
“You think so?” you asked with a soft smile, crossing your legs in his direction. He nodded his head, “I do.”
“Most people don’t even know this place exists.”
“Then I consider myself fortunate, your highness,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk.
The comment drew the faintest smile from you. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”
“To hide?” He chuckled.
You huffed a laugh, “Something like that.”
“And does it still work?”
The question lingered between you as your eyes drifted towards the radiant palace lights. “Always.” You hadn’t expected for him to actually make conversation with you, to actually acknowledge your feelings.
For the first time, Geto’s expression softened behind his mask. “Then perhaps it is a good hiding place after all.”
A quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it. “I suppose it is.”
The two of you fell silent once more, your eyes occupied on a pile of black dahlias dug into the ground. Geto glanced toward the palace in the distance where music still danced in the night air.
“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” He asked with a tilt of his head.
The question caught you off guard, you gaze immediately dropping to the gravel beneath your shoes. You sighed, “Probably.”
Geto hummed thoughtfully. “That didn’t sound very convincing,” he replied. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Paradise?” You snickered. “That’s one way to describe it.”
Geto’s expression seemed to pause. “Not a fan of your husband, hm?”
You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. “I barely even know him.” Your answer came quicker than intended.
“And yet you’re married to him.” His deep violet eyes bored into yours as if he was searching for something in them.
“Yeah, that’s usually how arranged marriages work,” you deadpanned. He chuckled lightly, running his chiseled fingers through his raven tresses. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t have a wife,” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“What makes you think that?” A hint of amusement danced in his dark eyes as he regarded you.
You paused, shaking your head with a tilted smile. “You just don’t seem like the kind of guy to be single, is all,” you replied.
Another laugh escaped him, richer this time. “What are you trying to say, my princess?” The title rolled effortlessly off his tongue.
Crimson rose to your cheeks, “You’re charming,” you shrugged, leaning back into the bench slowly.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Charming?”
You sighed, unbeknownst to what you’ve gotten yourself into. “Yes, annoyingly so.”
A pleasant smile spread across his features. “I’m truly flattered, your highness.”
“Don’t look so proud of yourself.”
“And here I thought it was a compliment,” he pouted, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense.
“It wasn’t,” you hastily replied, brushing your hands against the pieces of hair that fell against your face.
“I wasn’t aware of how cruel the Princess could be,” he scoffed playfully. “The rumors had me fooled.”
“Rumors?” Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. “And what do those rumors tell?”
A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “That you’re kind,” he spoke wisely, counting the rumors off on his fingers.
“Graceful.”
Then another.
“Patient.” His gaze flickered meaningfully toward you. “And, apparently, incapable of saying anything remotely insulting.”
A laugh escaped you despite the efforts you made to keep it hidden. “I’d like to say that they aren’t completely bogus rumors.”
“No?”
You shook your head. “I’m kind to those who deserve my kindness.”
“Am I lucky enough to be one of those individuals?” he questioned, slightly leaning closer towards you.
“We’ll see,” you said flatly with a soft shrug.
A quiet hum escaped him. “You’re a difficult woman to impress.”
“You noticed?”
“It’s becoming painfully obvious,” he said with a playful gaze.
Satisfaction overtook your features. “Good.”
Geto shook his head, a chuckle slipping past his soft lips. “Well, do you mind showing me around your hidden garden?”
You sat there for a moment, letting the question linger in between the presence of you both. “Why not?” You answered, pushing yourself off the stone bench.
What would be the trouble in showing him around, just a little?
Geto followed in pursuit, eyeing your silhouette generously. The scrutiny of his stare caused a soft heat to settle across your face, almost giving you away.
You dusted off your gloves as you walked, leading him down a narrow path in the garden brimmed with tall flowers that brushed against you as you passed. It began to feel less like a part of the estate and more like its own hidden world. Vines curled around old stone walls, and the air grew cooler, softer, like it belonged only to this place.
“There’s a beautiful bridge right up ahead, the pond below it has some pretty koi fish that you can feed,” you informed, turning around to make sure Geto was listening.
He nodded his head in amusement, “I’d love to see that.”
You turned your attention back to the sights in front of you. A soft smile tugged at your lips now that he couldn’t see, pleased that he felt interested.
Your heels fell silent against the overgrown grass as you guided him towards the stone bridge. The air nipped at your exposed skin, slipping beneath the velvet gloves that crept halfway up your arms.
You wrapped your arms around yourself without thinking, fingers brushing your upper arms for warmth. Beside you, Geto’s attention shifted, you could tell he noticed.
“You’re cold,” he said simply, like an observation rather than a question.
“I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, eyes focused on the way the garden bathed in a pool of milky, tranquil light provided by the full moon.
The sound of fabric moving interrupted the silence that followed you. Something warm settled over your shoulders, resting against you like it belonged there. You stilled, realizing it was his coat—heavy, unfamiliar, carrying the pleasant scent of him.
“You don’t have to, really,” you dismissed, yet you didn’t bother prying it off you.
“I want to,” he replied rather quickly, now covered in a thin white shirt that clung lightly to his frame, the fabric sheer enough to reveal the outline of his chiseled torso.
You quickly turned your head just as a warmth began to climb up your neck. You could feel his fox-like eyes watching you, making the sudden interest you had found in the surrounding garden seem entirely unconvincing.
“Okay-um, this is the bridge,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze as you motioned toward the arching stone path. The heat creeping towards your cheeks only intensified when a soft chuckle sounded from beside you, confirming he had realized you were flustered.
You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. “It’s a very nice bridge,” Geto offered after a moment.
You finally glanced at him, doing your very best to keep your eyes on the faint smile tugging at his lips and not at his bare torso beneath the flimsy shirt he wore. “You are impossible.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. You tore your gaze away, but not before it betrayed you, flickering downward for the briefest moment. Unfortunately for you, it was long enough for Geto’s sly eyes.
The knowing look that crossed his face made your stomach twist in embarrassment. “You seem distracted,” he mused.
Your stomach dropped. “No, not at all,” you replied quicker than you intended to. Geto regarded you for a moment before a small smile settled on his sharp features. “Of course.”
The obvious disbelief in his voice made you sigh, yet, he didn’t press any further. Instead, he stepped beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as the two of you continued to cross the bridge.
Your heels tapped a steady rhythm against the stone path, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead and the gentle rush of water beneath the bridge. You came to a stop at the middle of the bridge, peeking over at the fish that swam elegantly through the water.
“I didn’t bring anything to feed them today, unfortunately,” you said, resting your forearms against the stone railing.
Geto stepped beside you, following your gaze to the water below. Moonlight danced across the surface, scattering fragments of silver over the fish as they drifted lazily below the bridge. Your reflection wavered as the current moved—distorted, soft around the edges. Beside it, his reflection accompanied yours, slightly offset compared to you. Side by side, even in the water, though neither of you moved closer.
Geto leaned forward a little, his mirrored gaze meeting yours beneath the rippling surface. “Not very flattering,” he remarked lightly.
You huffed a quiet laugh, “Water reflections rarely are.”
Eventually, you straightened, brushing your fingers lightly against the old stone. “Come on,” you said, glancing toward the path ahead. “There’s more further up.”
You stepped forward first, leaving the bridge behind. After a beat, you heard him follow, feet clicking against the firm stone. You guided him through a small forest, occasionally smoothing your hands over flowers that stuck out to you.
Roots curled beneath the earth like hidden veins as the path narrowed deeper into the garden. You held up the long skirts of your dress, stepping gingerly over every sharp weed that threatened to rip your skirt.
Eventually, the garden’s path opened again, revealing a weeping willow tree. It whipped and rustled through the wind in the most delicate way possible, draping itself in a way that made it look like it was bowing.
“This is my favorite thing out of the entire garden,” you informed, reaching your hand out to graze one of the elongated leaves.
“A weeping willow,” he continued. “How lovely.”
You smiled at his admiration. “I’m glad we share the same opinion.”
The branches swayed gently above you, trailing like brushes of green that painted the air in slow, quiet movements. The shade beneath the tree was cooler, the moonlight broken into sporadic patterns across the ground. You hugged his coat tighter against you, hoping for more warmth.
Geto stepped a little closer, tilting his head as he looked up through the hanging leaves. “It’s so…quiet,” his husky voice interrupted the silence. “I can see why you favorite it.”
You glanced his way, finding his large frame beneath the willow’s cascading branches. “It’s easier to think here,” you admitted after a moment.
“Or to avoid thinking,” he replied lightly.
You scoffed under your breath, though there was no real bite to it. “That depends on the day.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “And today?”
You hesitated, then looked away first. “I suppose today is somewhere in between.”
A quiet hum escaped him, as if he accepted that answer without needing more.
“Geto?” You called gently.
At the sound of his name, his attention sharpened, his head turning toward you as his gaze settled on your face. “Hm?” He answered, voice nothing short of calm.
“I appreciate how understanding you’ve been, I don’t usually get to be this open with people,” you admitted softly, still holding onto a branch.
Geto looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable under the masquerade mask. “Of course, I’ve enjoyed this.”
A genuine smile crept across your face, even spreading through to your eyes. For a moment, you hesitated—your eyes lingering on the mask that covered half of his face. “Don’t you think I should be able to see your entire face?” You asked playfully, tilting your head.
Geto let out a quiet hum, almost amused. “And why is that?” He replied, tone light but measured.
You shrugged, trying to ignore how your heart had started to pick up pace. “It feels unfair. I’ve been talking to you this whole time, and I’m only getting half of the picture.”
That earned you a deep exhale of laughter from him. “Half of the picture might be preferable.”
“What? Are you hiding a monstrous face under there?” You snickered. “Or is that just your way of saying no?”
Geto exhaled softly, the sound carrying playful amusement. “If I were, I don’t think you would’ve gotten this far into our conversation.” He replied.
That made you pause, your smile faltering just a little as you looked at him more carefully. He didn’t seem to be hiding anything monstrous behind his mask—if anything, it seemed to be a silly thought. The part of his face you could see already gave you enough to imagine the rest: the sharp line of his jaw, the faint curve of his lips that always seemed to suggest he knew more than what he was saying.
He stepped closer—just enough for the space between you to feel noticeably smaller. “Besides,” he added, tone quieter now, “you were the one that brought me here.”
Your breath caught, though you tried not to show it. Yet, the creeping smirk on his face told you that he must’ve noticed. His hand rose to the edge of his mask, fingers pausing for a brief moment.
“Well, continue,” you said, ushering him with your hand.
“If I take off mine, you must return the favor,” he said, peering down at you.
Your brows lifted, “Fine, but you first.” A quiet pause followed your words.
Geto studied you for a moment, like he was making sure you were certain. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said, continuing to peel off his mask.
The fabric shifted slightly beneath his fingers before he lifted it away, revealing more of his face piece by piece. When it was finally gone, he didn’t immediately look away or break the moment. Instead, he simply watched you.
Without the barrier, his face felt different up close. It was striking, in a quiet, effortless way. A sharp jaw softened only by the ease of his expression, high cheekbones catching the moonlight that crept through the gaps in the willow leaves. His eyes held yours directly now.
Your mouth went dry at the sight of his face—he was so handsome, the kind of handsome you couldn’t even imagine. His eyes were the most arresting part, always focused and observant, noticing the slightest falter in your movement. Your mind stumbled on the idea of what it would feel like to be his lover. Would he look at you the same way he was doing currently? You quickly brushed away the thought, ashamed to be thinking of him in that way.
Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself—of the pause in your breathing, of the way your stomach fluttered from his stare.
“Well?” He chuckled, “I’m starting to feel a bit insecure, your highness.”
That snapped you out of it. Your eyes widened slightly before you quickly recovered. “Don’t be dramatic,” you said, though it came out softer than you intended.
His smooth hands reached to cup your face, fingers grazing over the edges of your mask. You flushed, pupils widening with an unwavering stare. “Your turn,” he whispered, fingers sweeping across your cheekbones before he reached for your mask.
His touch was thoroughly gentle as he peeled off your mask, holding the back of your head to keep you still. You swallowed hard, now feeling self-conscious from his gaze.
A charming smile pried at his lips. “My princess, you are breathtaking,” he cooed, staring at you with a softened gaze.
Your face reddened, now that there were no barriers between the two of you, the interaction felt incredibly more intimate. You had never experienced anything such as this, being complimented like this by a man as handsome and charming as him.
“T-thank you,” you stammered, your eyes flickering to the grass beneath your feet. His hands stopped you, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He leaned closer to you, deep brown eyes focused on your lips.
You quickly dodged him, breath hitched in your throat, “Geto, I’m-”
“You’re what?” He interrupted, tilting his head slightly.
“I’m married,” you whispered, shaking your head in rebellion. Despite your want, you couldn’t continue this. If your father found out-if anyone found out, you would be shunned.
The weight of your words didn’t seem to land the way you expected. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his expression shifted—confusion first, then something quieter. Not disbelief but like he was trying to understand if he had crossed a line.
His brows furrowed, “I thought you were unhappy with it?” He softly replied. His hands still lingered on your skin, providing a slimmer of warmth.
“I am,” you said quickly, then hesitated. The truth felt dangerous in your mouth. “Unhappy.”
A pause followed.
The distant sound of the garden—wind through leaves, water somewhere along the path, suddenly felt overwhelming. “But that doesn’t matter,” you added, forcing your voice steadier. “It’s already been decided. It’s done.”
His stare didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened. “Decided by who?” He protested.
You should’ve stepped back, you should’ve ended it right there. Despite the consequences, you stayed still. “My father,” you said, grasping onto his shoulders. “If he ever found out I was with you tonight, he’d be furious!”
“So don’t let him find out,” he countered. His words settled beneath you like a spark dropped into dry grass. And for a moment, you almost laughed. Your grip on his shoulders tightened instinctively, more from panic than intention. The idea was so simple in his mouth, so reckless, like your father’s authority was just a matter of secrecy.
“You don’t understand,” you said, voice sharper now. “It’s not just ‘don’t let him find out.’ If he suspects anything—if anyone sees me here with you, they’ll talk,” you explained. “When people talk, it’s bound to reach him.”
Your hands fell away slowly, “He doesn’t forgive things like that.”
The air between you felt different now. He hadn’t stepped away, but the closeness suddenly felt like pressure. His expression shifted to something unreadable, “We’re already past the point of pretending like nothing happened.”
You sighed, knowing that he was completely right and there was nothing you could do about it. “We’re completely isolated here,” he added. “You said so yourself, no one even knows this place exists.”
His argument should’ve comforted you, yet, it made your heart race. Because if no one could see you, then there was nothing left to blame for the way your heart reacted whenever he looked at you. There were no obligations or audience, just your own choices to blame.
Your fingers curled into the expensive fabric of your dress as you searched desperately for another reason, another barrier to put between you. “What you’re implying is dangerous.”
A faint smirk tugged at his porcelain lips. “What I’m implying is that you’re spending more time worrying about tomorrow than living through tonight.”
You swallowed hard. The conviction in his voice was infuriating. Even worse, a part of you craved to believe him. His gaze softened as it lingered on your face, studying every bit of uncertainty.
“I’m not asking for anything except for this moment, your highness,” he whispered, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a quick peck.
His words settled heavily in your mind like a viral plague, corrupting your thoughts with his own. For the first time that evening, you had no argument to give.
“May I?” He whispered, voice intoxicating and full of desire. His eyes flickered between your irises and your lips, like he was unsure what he should be focused on.
You paused, unable to ignore the sudden temptation flowing through your veins. Your mind went to the tousled white hair and cerulean eyes of your husband, then to Geto’s jet black, silky locks and his sharp eyes that held you under the most understanding scrutiny. Guilt twisted in your chest at the thought that you were more attracted to the stranger standing in front of you than the stranger you were betrothed to.
His eyes never left you once, waiting for the answer you were bound to give. “Yes,” you replied softly.
Your response ignited something deep inside of him, his smooth hands reached for the sides of your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. A choked gasp left your throat, muffled by his smooth lips. Your knees almost went weak from the blistering feeling in your stomach.
His hand pulled you firm against him, pressing against the back of your waist. Your hands hovered by your side awkwardly before finding place in his delicate hair. The way he kissed you was impeccable, like he was exploring every inch of your lips in the most gentle ways. You were practically shaking in his arms as he held onto you like it was his last time living.
You pulled away with a gasp, completely out of breath. Your head snapped to the area behind you, searching for anyone that could’ve seen what just happened. The warmth of his hand interrupted you, pulling your focus back to his flushed face.
“There’s no one here, just us,” he cooed, brushing tousled pieces of hair behind your ear. You almost fainted at the sight of him—his hair disheveled, your lipstick spread across his lips, his eyes dark and thoroughly focused on you.
“W-We shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered, shaking your head. The rest of the palace must’ve realized your absence and came searching for you by now. You could hear the strain in your own voice, the words sounding weak even to your own ears.
Geto remained where he was, holding onto your waist as he watched you struggle with your own thoughts. “And yet,” he murmured, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You didn’t stop me.”
Your breath caught as the reminder appeared once again. A knot twisted in your stomach at the thought of your father searching the palace up and down for you. “They’ll be looking for me,” you said, slowly backing up. “My father-if anyone sees us.”
“If anyone sees us,” Geto interrupted quietly, “I’ll take the blame.”
The night air seemed impossibly still, time seemed to falter like the moonlight carved your bodies into stone. Then Geto exhaled and straightened, putting a fraction more distance between you. The gesture was small but deliberate.
“You should go back before they send half the kingdom searching for their missing princess,” he added, delicately sliding your mask back onto your face.
“Probably a wise idea,” you added, shaking your head humorously. The moment was already slipping through your fingers, and part of you didn’t want to let it go. You took off his coat and handed it to him with a soft smile. Giving him one last longing look, you picked up your dress and slowly made your way out of the willow tree’s grasp.
“Wait!” His voice called out before you could take another step. The vulnerability in his voice was enough to stop you. You froze, turning around to meet his piercing eyes.
Behind you, Geto stood motionless waiting for you. “Will you give me the pleasure of seeing you again, my princess?” He called after you, his voice softer than ever.
You hesitated, unsure of whether you should listen to your mind or your heart. Your mind urged you to leave—forget about the handsome and mysterious stranger and focus on your husband. Your heart was far less reasonable. It remembered the warmth of his touch, the gentleness hidden behind his bulging muscles, and the way he looked at you like you were more than a title or a crown.
You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile threatening to betray you. “Perhaps,” you said at last, glancing back over your shoulder. “If fate is feeling exceptionally generous.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “Then I’ll be praying for fate’s generosity.”
The smile that finally broke across your face came before you could stop it. With one look in his direction, you turned and disappeared into the moonlit pathways leading back to the palace, all too aware of the weight of his gaze lingering on your retreating figure.
As you finally reached the garden’s entrance, a quiet sense of relief flooded through your body. Yet, your thoughts still raced from the previous events. As you stepped between the stone archway, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.
Your heart nearly stopped.
“There you are.”
Satoru Gojo stood there with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the garden wall as though he hadn’t spent the last several minutes searching for you.
His relaxed posture lasted for all of two seconds. The moment his eyes landed on you, his expression shifted. His eyes swept over your appearance—the slightly crooked mask, the loose strands of hair that fell from your careful styling, the faint flush still lingering on your cheeks.
Then his eyes settled on your lips and your stomach dropped. One pale thumb brushed across your lower lip on instinct, wiping off a smudge of lipstick.
Gojo’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Princess,” he said slowly, all senses of amusement absent from his voice for the first time. “You look a little…disheveled.”
The accusation hung between you. You swallowed hard, “I tripped over a weed in the garden.”
The excuse sounded ridiculous the moment it came out of your mouth. Clearly, Gojo felt the same, one of his pale brows arched in disbelief. “A weed?”
“A particularly vicious one,” you added.
His stare lingered on you for a second too long. “Interesting,” his gaze drifted to the loose strands of hair framing your face. “I don’t remember weeds having the ability to tousle hairstyles.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, pulling back the unruly loose strands behind your ears. “I actually fell into a bush after I tripped.”
A laugh escaped him, though it lacked its usual carefree quality. “And the lipstick?” He verbalized, holding up the mauve smudge on his thumb.
Your heart lurched as a small gasp escaped you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shook your head, unable to come to any good excuse.
“Really?” He interrogated, pushing himself off of the stone wall and taking a few measured steps closer. You fought the urge to retreat, glaring at him with false confidence.
Gojo stopped in front of you, his striking cerulean eyes narrowing as they searched your face. Usually there was a playful light in them, but now they seemed too observant.
“That’s strange,” he mused. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve had a far more interesting evening than the rest of us.”
Your brows drew together. “You’re being dramatic.” Despite the calm facade you wore, your thoughts were scrambling.
“Am I?” His gaze flickered down to your lips once more before returning to your eyes. “Your hair is a mess, your lipstick is smudged, and you’re acting like you’re being questioned by the royal guard.”
Heat flooded your face. “How rude!” you huffed, glaring at him with everything you had. “Also, no I’m not?”
“(name),” he said, fighting back a smile. “You’ve been backing away from me for the last thirty seconds.” Your shoulders bumped lightly against the stone archway, the realization only making the embarrassment worse.
Gojo’s smile widened, something unreadable lingering beneath it. “Who was it?”
The question landed like a stone to your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat as breathing seemed to become ten times harder than before.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Behind you, the garden gate stood open, moonlight spilling across the path. And somewhere beyond it, hidden among the shadows, was a man neither of you mentioned.
“What are you talking about?” You asked, hoping the false confusion seemed truthful.
Gojo let out a low hum, unconvinced. “You’re really going to make me spell it out?”
You tilted your head slightly, “I have no idea what you’re implying.”
“Sure you don’t,” he antagonized, his gaze fixed on your face before drifting toward the vast garden behind you. The darkness concealed the winding pathways and flowering hedges, revealing none of the secrets within. When his eyes returned to yours, a knowing smile tugged at his lips.
“Then I suppose it’s purely a coincidence that you disappeared halfway through the ball and returned looking like that,” he added.
Your stomach twisted, “looking like what?”
“Like you’ve been up to something.”
“That’s hardly evidence of anything.”
“No,” he admitted. “But your reaction is.”
You picked at the edges of your bodice, wishing for any source of salvation from your husband’s scrutiny. Gojo’s smile widened ever so slightly, like he noticed every crack in your composure.
“Relax, Princess. If you’re trying to convince me nothing happened, you’re putting far too much effort into it.”
You opened your mouth to protest, only to find yourself at a loss for words. The silence that followed was an answer enough.
Gojo chuckled softly and shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the palace. “Come on. Before someone notices the guest of honor has gone missing.”
Yet as he fell into step beside you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t nearly as fooled as he pretended to be. The ease in his posture faded just slightly as the palace lights came into view.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked suddenly.
You blinked. “What?”
“I mean it,” his voice softened a fraction. “If someone bothered you in there…” he didn’t finish his sentence but the air between you changed anyway.
The palace doors came into view like looming towers. Music spilled faintly through the walls. Laughter, glasses clinking, the distant hum of celebration seemed entirely like a different world.
“Try not to look like you committed treason,” he muttered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
“I don’t,” you whispered back automatically.
The doors opened, warm light almost blinded you as voices rushed out to greet you. From the moment you stepped foot into the ballroom, the garden and everything that happened vanished behind gilded walls.
Somewhere behind the hedges, unseen in the dark, a presence remained. Watching, waiting, and smiling like none of this was over yet.
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