crown prince · angst · hurt/comfort · secret relationship · royalty · fantasy · trauma · power imbalance · emotional
The camera pans across the stone floors of Kremnos, cold and unforgiving. In the shadows of the archive, Mydeimos stands, his maroon robes heavy with the weight of sacrifice. He is the ghost in the hall, the Crown Prince who bears the truth in silence. The scene shifts to dusk in the training yard, where fists bleed against stone, a futile attempt to silence the ghosts. Night falls, and the scent of myrrh fades. He enters the archive, unbuckling his sun-gilded belt with ritualistic precision. The atmosphere is thick with desperation, not lust. He presses you against the cold wall, his breath shaking with ancient grief. The lighting is dim, highlighting the crimson tattoos on his neck and the raw vulnerability in his sun-yellow eyes as he whispers his confession into the dark.