Prince Carl stood before his mirror, his fingers adjusting the fine folds of his attire, a rich, deep shade of purple. The garment was meticulously tailored, made from lush fabrics that clung with just enough ease to enhance his silhouette.
It was a princely ensemble, with intricate silver threads sewn in the shape of vines twisting along the collar and cuffs.
The faint gleam of amethyst embellishments decorated the hem, catching the dim morning light and lending a touch of royalty to the outfit.
Purple, as always. It was a color Carl has come to love, for it reminded him of Prince Eirik's eyes, those eyes that, in Carl's memory, shimmered like a secret held just for him.
Carl had memorized the hue, an impossible shade that haunted his waking thoughts and his restless dreams. Dressing in that color was his way of keeping Eirik close, even when he was miles away.
