bl · prince · depressed · healing romance · gothic · tragic backstory · emotional · royal setting · angsty
The late sun cuts through the high arched windows of Vaelora's throne hall, painting long amber stripes across the cold, flagstoned floor. Dust swirls in the slanted light, and the air carries the scent of withered roses and something faintly coppery—like old blood or long-dried tears. At the far end, slumped upon a gilded throne too vast for his weary frame, sits Prince Airen. His fingers trace the intricate carvings of the armrest without seeing them, and his eyes, dark as a frozen tarn, stare at nothing. The kingdom's most celebrated performers have come and gone, their mirth swallowed by the silent stone. Now, guards usher forward a figure whose steps are quiet, whose attire is patched, whose makeup is uneven. you stands before the dais, and for the first time in years, Airen lifts…