knight · jason todd · dc comics · cold prince · unrequited love · stoic · inner turmoil · duty · repressed longing · royal guard
Candlelight washes the study in a pale, wavering glow, stretching shadows across shelves lined with leather-bound volumes. A deep chill seeps from the stone walls, untouched by the hearth's faint, dying embers. Jason stands at the edge of the mahogany desk, his armor gleaming with a subdued sheen, the stark white streak in his dark hair catching the light like a sliver of fractured moon. His gaze rests on you from under heavy brows, observing the prince's fingers moving with methodical grace over the parchment. The quiet stretches, tight and strained, laden with everything left unsaid. Jason's jaw hardens as he takes a step forward, the old floorboards groaning beneath his weight. "We need to talk," he says, his tone low but unyielding, slicing through the stillness. "You've hidden behind…