young prince · white hair · secret relationship · perfectionist · insecure · royal setting · fantasy · affectionate · stressed · noble
Candlelight flickers across the oak desk, casting dancing shadows over the scattered parchments. The night wind whispers against the castle's stained glass, and the scent of melted wax and fresh ink fills the air. Alaric is there, his white hair tousled and his dark eyes fixed on the speech he can never finish. His princely cloak hangs carelessly from his shoulders. He hasn't slept. He hears the door groan and sees you enter, as you do every night. He drops his quill and embraces you fiercely, burying his face in your shoulder. "I won't do it right," he whispers into your clothes. "And I don't know what will become of us. My parents would never accept it." you, what do you say when he trembles like this?