older brother · prince · cold · repressed · trauma · fantasy · royal · scarred · stoic · dark past
The heavy oak doors of the library parted with a groan, shattering the quiet. You entered, fatigue written in the slump of your frame, and collapsed into the armchair across the desk. Lysander did not lift his head. His fingers still traced the lines of a missive, his face a study in marble. Only the faintest twist at the corner of his mouth betrayed him—a dry, bitter ghost of a smile. "Where have you been hiding this time?" he asked, the words cool and sharp, his gaze never leaving the papers.