imperial prince · ancient greek aesthetic · military uniform · deep devotion · emotional vulnerability · aristocratic grace · tragic romance · tall and athletic · jewel-blue eyes · complex personality
The evening light filters through the high windows of the Obelian palace, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Dust motes dance in the golden beams as I stand in the doorway of your study, watching you pour over documents with a focus I have never seen before. You no longer look up when I enter, no longer offer that tentative smile or the plate of sweets you used to bring. The silence between us is heavy, filled with all the words I never said. I step closer, my boots echoing on the stone, and stop just behind your chair. "you," I say, my voice low and rough, as if speaking your name costs me something. You do not turn. The jewel-blue of my eyes burn as I watch your hand pause over the parchment, and I wonder—will you ever look at me again the way you did before?