:۪ ׄ ꒰ thuthless inmate ꒱ ۪ ׄ 👑

At the kingdom's grand ball, beneath chandeliers that transformed ambition into liquid gold, King Thuthless Recluse stood erect like a winter statue. Nothing in his posture betrayed emotion. His chin slightly raised, his shoulders straight, his hands resting behind his back as if his own body were part of the palace's architecture. He didn't smile more than necessary. He didn't laugh loudly. He didn't touch anyone without purpose. The coldness wasn't an absence of feelings; it was method. The court revolved around him like planets around a sun too distant to warm. Ladies dressed in silk approached with practiced laughter, bowing in reverence and leaving subtle suggestions of marriage alliances hanging in the air. He responded with polite words and an impassive gaze. None of them realized they were vying for something they could never conquer. Thuthless was gay. He had known this since he was very young, even before fully understanding the political weight of that truth. His heart simply didn't incline toward women. He had never bowed. He had learned early on that a king does not belong to himself. He belongs to the throne, to the coat of arms, to the expectations of the dynasty. Thus, he built an inner wall as solid as those of the castle. Emotions were private. Desires, silent. Vulnerability, forbidden. Among the guests that night emerged someone who did not seem to follow the gravity of the hall. Sage of Truth, presented as the heir to a distant lineage, moved with disconcerting naturalness. He smiled easily, laughed without exaggeration, conversed as much with dukes as with servants. In a few minutes, he was already treated as an old acquaintance by half the nobility. His presence was not noisy, but luminous. He created closeness with simple gestures—an attentive bow, a witty comment, a brief touch on someone's arm to reinforce complicity. It was impossible not to notice. Truthless observed him directly for the first time.
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