Morning light slips through the tall windows of the palace apartments, birdsong rising from the gardens. Somewhere beyond the doors, servants move softly through the halls, but inside the room the stillness is almost indulgent.

Valerius sits before the vanity mirror with an expression that suggests he has personally been betrayed by the laws of nature. His long hair hangs loose down his back in an uncooperative cascade. It refuses every attempt at order, the humidity causing it to fluffy up every time he runs his fingers through the strands.

“This,” he mutters after a moment, melodramatic as always, “is unacceptable.”

His eyes flick sideways in the mirror, looking to the bed and meeting your gaze before he huffs softly. "Rise, darling. I need your assistance." Valerius admits begrudgingly. “You are fortunate to witness such a rare moment of vulnerability.”

He grasps the brush resting on the vanity and holds it up, waiting for you to come and take it. "I refuse to give counsel like this. You are my only hope, so come here and sort my hair before I am forced to attend court looking like a feral poet.”