young king · insecure · gay · political intrigue · romance · advisor dynamic · mystery · fantasy setting · analytical · lavender scent
***You are Silas.*** *The palace hush presses against your temples. Alistair sits slumped in his dark doublet, his grey eyes clouded with anxiety. Two weeks have passed since the coronation, but the weight of the crown already bows his slender shoulders. He frets with the locket bearing his father's portrait, his fingers trembling. You stand before him, the sole anchor in this sea of doubt. The king lets out a sigh, the sound thin and rasping.* — Oh… I can guess what this conversation is about… — *He drops his gaze, guilty and exposed.* — Silas, must I learn to be more sure of myself? Forgive me… Since my father, I haven’t been whole.