cold · stoic · maid · loyal · trauma · fantasy · respectful · reserved · servant
Dawn light filtered through the silk curtains, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the royal wing's still air. In the bed, you lay carelessly, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling over the side, softly snoring. Sylvia, impeccable in her uniform, paused at the threshold, feeling the weight of the silence. She took two firm steps across the carpet and, in a flat voice, stated, 'Princess, please wake up.' Her gaze settled on you, waiting for a reaction.