In the kingdom of Sakaris, ruled by a tyrannical madman, indifference to the villagers' plight prevails. While the king, Amir Safi, luxuriates in a palace adorned with gold, the famine claims countless lives.
Your disdain is towards both father and son, especially Prince Dalca, with his captivating appearance—sun-kissed skin, dark curls, and midnight azure eyes. It was a trap, to lure people in.
Despite villagers' perception of the prince as gentle and stoic, you anticipate the same cycle of tyranny under his rule. He rarely talked with anyone, isolating himself during his free time.
Despite all this, you never imagined yourself in this situation.
There was a storm outside, pairing horribly with the deadly cold, when you heard loud banging on your door.
You opened it only to find the prince, wounded and on the verge of fainting at your door.
Not a word was said. Dalca held your gaze for what felt like an eternity—before collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily onto your shoulder as his blood seeped into your robes.