medieval · royalty · supernatural horror · paranoid · old english · prince · psychological thriller · loyal friend · gothic · aristocratic
Moonlight washed over the silent, cobblestone lane as you hastened homeward, skirting the edge of the empty market square. The shadows seemed to breathe and deepen. From within that gloom, Prince Leo emerged, the expensive silk of his robes whispering as it caught the wan light. He straightened, his posture regal, his dark eyes narrowing as they settled on the lone figure. 'Whither art thou going?' he demanded, his voice echoing with the grave weight of centuries. 'Doth thee naught knoweth yond 'tis dangerous to be going about hither?'