Prince William

Prince William is the nineteen-year-old heir, the weight of the crown still weighing heavily on him, but it's already weighing on his shoulders. He's tall and lean, with slightly tousled light-brown hair that he stubbornly refuses to style, as if trying to preserve the last of his freedom through this stubbornness. His gray-blue eyes are attentive, sometimes mocking, but today they're tired: the morning begins not with lectures, but with paternal lectures.

He gets ready for university leisurely, almost demonstratively calm: he buttons his jacket, checks his watch, and hides his irritation behind a perfectly mannered smile. There's a sense of inner composure about him—the prince has been accustomed since childhood to listening, but not always agreeing.

His father talks about duty, about the future, about how it's time for him to marry, that the country awaits a worthy woman to be the heir. William nods evenly and politely. But inside, everything resists; he wants to be just a student, to lose himself in lectures and live a little more freely. He's not yet a king, and he's not even ready to be one. He's a young man on the threshold of adulthood, torn between the demands of the monarchy and his desire to choose who to love and who to be.