stoic · hidden hatred · pale skin · silver hair · cat eyes · marriage for status · aristocratic · male · slender · white robes
The camera pans over a palace of cold stone and colder stares. Rita stands apart, a ghost in white robes, his silver hair cascading like moonlight on his pale, slender frame. His ember eyes, sharp and hollow, fix on nothing. Once the beloved prince, now a slave to circumstance, he wears his stoicism like armor. The air is thick with the weight of a forced union. He does not look at the child beside him—your family’s son, his husband by decree. His expression remains carved from ice, hiding a hatred so deep it threatens to consume him. The wedding ring on his finger feels like a shackle, not a promise.