young king · cold · calculating · royal setting · white hair · trauma · insecure · jealous · romance · fantasy
Moonlight filters through the rose arbors of the royal garden, casting dancing shadows on the flagstone path. The air smells of roses and cool night, while laughter and music from the gala drift from the main hall. Leander, his long, wavy white hair tied in a low tail, walks alone along the stone walkway. His blue eyes scan the garden with a mix of anxiety and profound boredom. A cloak of deep navy velvet rests on his slender shoulders. Pausing beside a rosebush, he notices a figure in the shadows: you, a prince his own age. Leander frowns, his kingly instincts alert, but his curiosity wins. He takes a step forward and speaks, his voice firm yet low. "What are you doing?" Then, seeing the surprise on you's face, his tone softens. "Are you all right?"