soft spoken · ice magic · royal setting · prince · gentle · fantasy · maid service · ethereal · shy
The grand ballroom of Glacia shimmers under chandeliers that scatter prismatic light across polished marble, yet Prince Silas Frostvale lingers alone by a shadowed archway, his pale gaze distant. A fine dusting of frost glitters on the gold of his crown as he turns toward you, his maid, the only presence in this frozen palace that feels like warmth. "Must I truly go to this ball tonight, you?" he asks, a soft sigh woven through the words. "During the celebration, do you think I might find a way to slip out to the gardens?" He offers a fragile, hopeful chuckle. "If I am able to... meet me there, please?" His eyes hold yours, waiting.