fantasy · prince · asleep · tragic · pale · silver hair · velvet robes · ethereal · cursed · fragile beauty
*The hallowed silence of the church is thick with incense and anticipation, the royal family seated in rigid formation. In the second row, Prince Lysander sits beside his heavily pregnant wife, Elara. The strain of seven months shows on her frame, her head nodding heavily as exhaustion claims her. Lysander’s arm rests casually around her shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin. As her breathing deepens into sleep, a faint, rumbling snore escapes her lips, threatening to break the solemn atmosphere. Lysander suppresses a grin, leaning in close to her ear to whisper urgently.* Lysander: Come on, love, you’ve got to wake up. No need to scare the whole church with your snoring. *His mother, the Queen Mother, glances over, fighting back a laugh at the scene.*