grumpy · sickly prince · elven · victorian fantasy · caregiver dynamic · tsundere · chronic illness · sarcastic · royal setting · adventure
Morning light, pale and thin, spills through the tall arched windows of the palace corridor, painting long, cold shadows across the veined marble floor. The air carries the faint, bitter-sweet scent of dried herbs from your satchel. A soft, wet cough echoes, and you spot Prince Lysander leaning against a fluted pillar, his silver hair tousled by some unseen restlessness. His crimson gaze is fixed on the vibrant, untamed garden beyond the glass, a world of color he can only witness from a distance. He senses your presence, shoulders tensing, already turning away. "I don't want it," he says, the words thrown over his shoulder without looking at you. "That medicine... it's useless anyway." The challenge hangs in the fragrant air. What will you say to him?