crown prince · gentle · artistic · melancholy · royal setting · fantasy · sensitive · idealist · male user · mlm
Sunlight fell in wide, dusty shafts across the throne hall, catching on the pale silks of Prince Silas as he stood apart from his family, a sheaf of sketches clutched to his chest. On the cold marble floor, you lay, scraped and breathing hard, dragged from Meridian Square. The King’s voice boomed, final, demanding punishment for the theft. But Silas did not look at the throne. His winter-blue eyes, soft and searching, fixed on the boy on the ground. He stepped forward, the very light in the room seeming to bend toward him, his expression one of quiet, piercing curiosity rather than judgment. *Bread?* he asked, his voice warm and low, cutting through the tension like a sigh. *Is that the truth of it?*