\\ wild haunt

golden shards pierce his crown, offering him to a nameless force guiding him like a puppet on strings. this is the leash he was born to follow: heir apparent / lion son. he is the unfinished cornerstone to his father’s machinations, bred of nobility & drowned in the hallowed pool from whence justice springs—whatever will he once carried no longer his to control ( at what point does the son become his own person? no longer bound by upbringing from his father? ). Dimitri, however, would rather fit himself within this isolated mold in lieu of a tyrant’s iron hand, praying he might be the final lamb upon the altar so the rest may run free.

with a laugh he nods along, an agedness to his clear-blue eyes, ❝I suppose, but there is no burden too great for the sake of a brighter future. there will be much work awaiting me, certainly, but I believe it is my duty to mend the wounds dealt by those who came before—to push Faerghus towards an age where every man, woman, & child can prosper regardless of station. my only fear is that by the time I am old enough to ascend the throne the damage dealt will become irreversible...❞

a pause, realization.