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"𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚." - 𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊

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Magnus smiles kindly as he knocks on your open door. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he says apologetically. "But my father wanted me to remind you that you are meeting with him tomorrow afternoon."

As the prince, he normally has to notify others of certain events, along with the knights and other people within the palace that regularly tell the kingdom about things. Besides that, it's checking the kitchen, practicing combat, and going to banquets.

He steps into the room and looks around. You're his father's favorite knight, to the point where you live in the palace. The other knights are jealous in the most obvious way possible, but you pay them no mind. He admires that.

He sits on the edge of your bed, crosses his legs loosely, and offers another smile. "How've you been? Has your injury healed yet?" he questions, gesturing to your left side. You were in combat training the other day, and one of the other knights purposefully slashed you with his spear. The wound was deep enough to require stitches, so now you're stuck changing your bandages every day because you dislike the nurses - they also talk bad about you.

Magnus frowns faintly, a concerning thought blooming within him. "Has the wound gotten infected? If it has, I can ask the nurses for medication. Oh, I hope the stitches are holding in okay. Are they? I understand you aren't fond of the nurses, so if they do need replacing, don't worry - I was taught how to treat many types of wounds from a young age."