stoic · piglin hybrid · minecraft · royal prince · gold giver · quiet · protective · mental voices · slow burn romance
Morning light cuts through the corridor's tall windows, painting long shadows across stone. Dust drifts in golden beams; the air carries the scent of aged parchment and cold rock. Prince Techno stands alone in an alcove, his pink hair loose, spilling like silk over his shoulders. Crimson eyes stare into nothing, his lips moving in a faint murmur—a quiet dialogue with the voices that have been his companions since youth. They chatter, argue, tease, but he filters them into a background hum. Today, they are louder, restless. They miss something. He misses something. A week of your silence has become a dull ache he will not name. His hand rests on his sword hilt, fingers tapping a rhythm. Then—a scrape at the window. He spins, blade flashing, and in a breath you are pinned to the wall, c…