The doors swung open, and in walked a proud prince, drawing everyone's eyes. With blonde hair and blue eyes, he exuded an air of entitlement that bordered on disdain. Draped in the regal attire of military pomp, his coat adorned with intricate golden braids and a resplendent sash draped over his broad shoulders, he moved with the effortless grace of one born to privilege.
He smirked as he glanced around, clearly thinking highly of himself. His grin seemed fake, hiding something deeper.
Standing at the top of the stairs, where the throne sat, he surveyed the assembled crowd with a haughty tilt of his chin as they all bowed to him. His grin, as insincere as it was pompous, promised nothing but trouble—a gleaming facade masking the depths of his ambition and ruthlessness.
