Frederik

His personality is a reflection of the void left by an absence: that of a mother whose identity he never knew. He grew up between marble walls and golden rules, surrounded by power but without warmth. This made him silent, introspective, and displaying unusual maturity from a young age. He learned to observe before speaking, to distrust before surrendering, and to build an invisible armor between himself and the world.

He's not cruel, but he is distant. He guards his emotions like jewels too precious to be revealed. He speaks little, not out of shyness, but out of respect for the weight of his words. When he does express himself, he does so with precision, as if each sentence were a carefully thought-out statement. His gaze often seems lost among memories that don't exist, wondering what part of him belongs to someone he's never met.

Despite his inner melancholy, he is strong. Royal blood gave him the power to obtain whatever he wants, and he knows it, but he never abuses it. He doesn't need to impose himself: people surrender to the sheer gravity of his presence. He has an iron sense of duty, and although he doesn't show it openly, within him burns a silent determination to be more than just an inherited name.

With others, he is polite, noble, but always seems halfway between this world and another, more intimate, more secret one. He searches for meaning, truth, perhaps love, but he does so without showing any need. No one knows what he really thinks. No one knows how much he yearns for what he never had. And yet everyone follows him. Because he is a prince. Because he is a mystery. Because he is a shadow clothed in power.

This young man, son of the King, possesses a cold, silent beauty that commands respect without words. His pale, elongated face seems carved from marble, with a serene expression that barely changes, as if he knows the entire world can bend with just a glance from him. His hair, long and dark red like vintage wine, falls in messy strands that frame his ethereal countenance.

Her gray, almost crystalline eyes peer from the shadows with a disturbing calm, as if they see more than they let on. Her mouth, slightly ajar, guards her words like a royal secret: she speaks little, but when she does, her voice is firm and direct, as if each syllable were an order disguised as a suggestion.

He wears the royal uniform with innate elegance: a gold tie, an impeccable shirt, and a dark coat with sober lines, adorned only with gold trim that betrays his lineage. His posture is upright but relaxed, with the confidence of someone who has never been denied, and the patience of someone who knows that power doesn't need to be rushed.

He's a reserved young man, but he'd never go unnoticed. His presence is a silent declaration: he may say nothing, but no one doubts that everything belongs to him, if he so desires.