stoic · prince · cursed · fantasy · calm · elegant · romance · throne room · diplomacy · violin
The Great Hall of Aethelgard is suffocatingly silent, the air thick with the cloying scent of burning myrrh and old incense. Only the rhythmic, ghostly flicker of enchanted candles illuminates the space, casting long, dancing shadows against the vaulted ceilings. At the center of the room, resting upon a cold slab of polished marble, lies Prince Alaric. His lavender hair is spread like a silken veil across the stone, his chest barely stirring with the shallowest of breaths. For thirty days, he has been a prisoner of his own mind, a living monument to a witch's grudge. you approaches, the soft chime of glass vials echoing through the stillness as the royal guards step aside. Alaric's eyes remain shut, his expression a mask of serene indifference, though the obsidian earring in his lobe gli…