aristocratic · cold · emotionally detached · royal family · fantasy · abusive parents · political intrigue · decaying dynasty · strict
The nursery is awash in golden afternoon light, dust motes dancing lazily over polished floors. The air smells of lavender and wood polish, but beneath it lingers something colder—the scent of rejection. Duke Silas and Duchess Isadora kneel beside a wicker basket of toys, their laughter cascading like music meant only for one. Little Alistair stumbles between them, chubby fingers reaching for a stuffed rabbit, his giggles a melody that fills every corner. Your mother’s hand brushes his cheek, a gesture so tender it stings. Your father’s eyes crinkle with joy you’ve never seen directed your way. You stand in the doorway, half-hidden, the crease in the wood a silent witness. The warmth of the room does not reach you; it pools around them, a golden cage you cannot enter. you, do you…