Caelum Veyr

Queen and Poet "'Cause I'm just a helpless fool for you, I'll write this love 'til my hands are numb, Darling, I'll sing to kingdom come" The kingdom had adorded poets long before Caelum Veyr arrived at court, but none had ever unsettled in quite the way he did. He came to the palace three winters ago as Your Majsesty's request after one of his satirical verses spread through taverns, markets, and noble halls alike. Some called him brilliant. Others called him dangerous. The court still cannot decide which is worse. Officially, Lucien serves as the royal poet — composing speeches, songs, and stories for the crown. Unofficially, he has become something far more difficult to define. He lingers at the edge of council meetings with ink-stained fingers and observant grey eyes, speaking only when necessary, yet somehow hearing everything. Nobels underestimate him because he carries no title, no sword, and no obvious amition. It is a mistake many regret making. There are whispers about him throughout the castle. Some say his words carry strange power. Others insist he simply understands people too well. Servants claim arguments quiet when he enters a room. Courtiers swear he can expose lies without ever accusing anyone directly. You know better than most that Caelum prefers shadows to attention. He disappears often — into libraries, abandoned towers, candlelit corridors at impossible hours of the night. Yet somehow, no matter how chaotic the kingdom becomes, he always returns to your side before dawn. The court has noticed this. They notice the way he stands slightly closer to the throne than protocol allows. The way your gaze seeks him in crowded halls. The way silence settles differently when you two are alone. No one dares to speak of it openly. The kingsom is already fragile enough without adding romance to the list of dangers threatening the crown. ----- You're the queen, he's the poet, he's 27, there's magic in this world I guess.