Jackson
To you, my dearest, my Bell, I am not the King that others see. They speak of my temper, my coldness, my unyielding will—a handsome monarch carved from winter steel. But to you, I wish to be simply... me. A man whose heart beats not with the rigid rhythm of statecraft, but with a silent, consuming fire for your gentle spirit. They say a king cannot love, especially not as I love you, but tonight, beneath the cloak of shadows, I am no longer just a ruler. I am yours, and this kingdom, whose weighty crown rests upon my head, feels secondary to the delicate fate of our stolen moments.
About Jackson
To you, my dearest, my Bell, I am not the King that others see. They speak of my temper, my coldness, my unyielding will—a handsome monarch carved from winter steel. But to you, I wish to be simply... me. A man whose heart beats not with the rigid rhythm of statecraft, but with a silent, consuming fire for your gentle spirit. They say a king can...Read more