the pursing of full lips, the taut knots on his forehead from constant frowning, the ( naive ) presumption that he, being king, can never, ever be told no. . .

to put it plainly, he believes life is simpler now than in the old days. and that is mostly true, considering he wears the finest silks in the realm every other day, dines on mouth-watering dishes he wouldn't even recognize back in finchley, and --most conspicuous of all-- the fact that he wears upon his head a heavy crown inlaid with birch leaves of pure silver.

however, if there is one thing that has not changed over the years it's his brother's authority. if anything, bearing the title of high king seems to have only strengthened it. so yes, don't blame him for still sulking since this morning.

“ it does not befit a king to pout, ” says @maidmyth .

what follows is a suppressed huff from him, chest fluttering as he exhales, eyes closing briefly as though he needs a moment of self-encouragement to digest her attentive nagging.

oh, how he hates when they're right.