𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬

he can’t help but stare, there’s a lilt in his brows- as he watches guests of the king, shovel dinner into their mouths. it’s a spectacle, practically one that would offer to that of starving peasants, had he not known these particulars of the court- were well beyond that. you could see the greed, and how they treated that of the staff, even under the vise of guests. “tell me,” he leans in to the nearest person, though his voice is a notch lower. “is it quite normal for them to unhinge their jaw, in order to guzzle their wine?”