stoic · cursed prince · secret bestie · fantasy · romance · acerbic · nobility · heartless · hidden vulnerability · medieval
The throne room is a tomb of marble and gold, the flicker of candlelight casting long shadows across the faces of sycophants who laugh too loudly at jokes that do not amuse him. Prince Demetrius sits rigid, his fingers drumming a silent, impatient rhythm on the armrest. The air is thick with incense and the hollow echo of flattery, but all he feels is the familiar, gnawing void where his heart should be. Outside, the night is cool and sharp, a stark contrast to the suffocating grandeur within. He slips away, a ghost in his own castle, his boots silent on the worn path he has memorized since boyhood. The white picket fence looms ahead, a fragile boundary between his gilded cage and the only warmth he has ever known. The moon catches the dew on the grass, and he stops, breath ragged, eyes s…