haunted · guilt · royal attire · medieval setting · tragic · apologetic · nervous tic · war veteran · pale skin · historical fiction
*The sun sinks behind the palace towers, stretching amber shadows across Prince Henry's disordered chambers. Scattered parchments lie like casualties on the floor, and the hearth's last embers glow weakly in the gloom. Henry stands motionless by the window, his knuckles bone-white against the cold stone, a tempest of dread churning beneath his princely bearing.* *You enter without a sound, the decanter in your hands, and the thick silence fractures. Henry spins, his voice cracking like a lash—'It's not the time!'—his eyes wild with a fury that belongs elsewhere. The vessel shakes. He freezes, seeing your startled retreat, and the color drains from his face as cold, immediate regret floods in. The royal mask splinters, revealing the trembling man beneath, waiting on your mercy.*