🍃💗 The Quiet Princess and the Prince Who Waited 💗🍃

🍃💗 The Quiet Princess and the Prince Who Waited 💗🍃

a soft, friendly, deeply romantic story — calm, tender, and comforting

In the gentle kingdom of Willowmere, nothing rushed.

The river curved lazily through the town as if it had all the time in the world. Wind chimes sang softly from wooden porches. Even the bells in the clocktower rang a little late, as though they didn’t want to interrupt anyone’s thoughts.

People said Willowmere was boring.

Princess Anwen thought it was perfect.

She liked the quiet. She liked mornings that began slowly and evenings that felt like deep breaths. She liked sitting by the river with a book she’d already read twice, just to enjoy the feeling of knowing how it ended.

Anwen was not shy, exactly.

She was simply gentle.

And in a world that loved loud rulers and bold declarations, gentleness often went unnoticed.

The neighboring kingdom of Highreach was the opposite.

Tall walls. Sharp mountains. Strong voices.

And from there came Prince Tomas, sent to Willowmere for what everyone called “an important political visit” and what Tomas privately called “a very long obligation.”

He arrived on a horse that looked just as tired as he felt.

The people bowed.

The advisors talked.

The prince nodded politely.

And then he noticed her.

Anwen was standing slightly apart from the crowd, hands folded, watching him with calm curiosity rather than expectation.

She smiled at him—not a practiced smile, not a royal one.

Just a real one.

Something in Tomas’s chest loosened.

They were introduced properly later, in the garden by the river.

“You’re quieter than I expected,” Tomas said honestly.

She laughed softly. “I get that a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it badly,” he added quickly.

“I know,” she said. “Most people don’t.”

That made him smile.

Tomas was used to proving himself.

In Highreach, strength was measured in decisions made quickly and loudly. Silence was seen as hesitation. Waiting was considered weakness.

But Willowmere waited.

The river waited.

The trees waited.

And Princess Anwen waited too—not passively, but patiently, like someone who trusted that what mattered would arrive.

Tomas found himself slowing down without realizing it.

They spent time together without schedules.

Walking along the river.

Sharing tea that cooled before either remembered to drink it.

Sitting in companionable silence that somehow felt like conversation.

“You don’t rush me,” Tomas said one afternoon, surprised by his own words.

Anwen tilted her head. “Why would I?”

“No one ever does that,” he admitted.

She looked at him kindly. “Then maybe they should have.”

Anwen listened the way people wished they were listened to.

Not to respond.

Not to correct.

Just to understand.

Tomas told her about the pressure of being firstborn. About always being expected to know the answer. About how exhausting it was to never be allowed uncertainty.

She didn’t try to fix it.

She simply said, “That sounds very heavy.”

And somehow, it felt lighter.

He began seeking her out.

Not because he was lonely—but because being with her felt like rest.

Anwen noticed the change in him before he did.

The way his shoulders lowered when he saw her.

The way his voice softened.

The way he lingered.

One evening, as fireflies drifted above the river, Tomas spoke carefully.

“In my kingdom,” he said, “waiting is seen as weakness.”

Anwen smiled gently. “Here, it’s trust.”

He considered that for a long moment.

The court noticed too.

Some whispered that the princess was doing nothing to impress him. Others worried that she was too quiet to matter.

But Tomas noticed everything she didn’t say.

He noticed the way she made space for people.

The way children followed her without fear.

The way the river seemed calmer when she was near.

On the final night of his visit, Tomas stood with Anwen by the water, watching the moon ripple across the surface.

“I have to return tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she replied.

He hesitated. “Will you… miss me?”

She looked at him, her expression warm and honest.

“Yes,” she said simply.

His breath caught.

No drama.

No hesitation.

Just truth.

Back in Highreach, everything felt louder.

Faster.

Sharper.

Tomas tried to return to his old rhythm, but something had shifted. He found himself pausing before decisions. Listening longer. Waiting.

He wrote to Anwen.

Not formal letters.

Not diplomatic ones.

Just thoughts.

She wrote back.

Slowly. Thoughtfully. Kindly.

The distance didn’t weaken their bond.

It deepened it.

Months later, Tomas returned to Willowmere—not as an envoy, but as himself.

This time, he didn’t arrive on horseback.

He walked.

He found Anwen by the river, exactly where she always was.

“You came back,” she said, smiling.

“I did,” he said. “I learned something.”

She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh?”

“I don’t want to rule loudly,” he said. “I want to rule wisely. And I think… I learned how from you.”

Her smile softened.

When he asked her to join him—not as a symbol, not as a solution, but as a partner—he did not kneel in public.

He asked her quietly, by the river.

Anwen took his hands.

“I don’t rush,” she said gently.

“I know,” he replied. “I’ll wait.”

She kissed him.

And waiting suddenly felt like the best thing in the world.

Their kingdoms changed in small but lasting ways.

Highreach learned patience.

Willowmere learned confidence.

And together, Anwen and Tomas proved something rare and beautiful:

🌿💞 Love doesn’t always arrive loudly.

Sometimes it waits beside you, quietly, until you’re ready to notice it. 💞🌿