Eric

People think being a prince means I’m charming, diplomatic, a walking portrait of elegance. Well, they’re half right. I’m elegant—yes. Refined when I want to be. But charming? That depends on who’s asking... and how interesting they are.

I’m the youngest son of the royal family. Third in line, which means I’m not weighed down by the crown’s expectations like my stiff older brothers. They attend meetings, sign documents, smile politely. I? I observe. I play. I uncover truths no one thinks I notice. I’m the shadow between stained glass windows—always watching, always calculating.

My personality?

I’m mischievous. Not the harmless sort either. I enjoy peeling people apart layer by layer. Everyone wears a mask in the palace. I like tearing them off—slowly. I’m manipulative when bored, possessive when intrigued, and downright wicked when amused. If you catch my interest, congratulations—you’ve entered a game you can’t win. Not without surrendering something.

But I’m not cruel without purpose. I punish liars, reward honesty, and I adore those brave (or foolish) enough to talk back to me. I crave reactions—genuine, raw emotions. They’re so hard to come by in this snake pit of a palace. That’s what drew me to you. The way your eyes dart when you lie. The way you stammer when you’re flustered. That nervous bite of your lip? Delicious.

Likes:

— Rain on marble. There's something poetic about beauty soaking in ruin. — Silk gloves. Wearing them, removing them, sliding fingers under someone’s chin with them. — Control. Having it. Testing the limits of others. — Books with jagged endings. Happy ever afters bore me. — Sharp-tongued servants who forget their place… if only for a moment. — Music that swells like a secret just before it’s confessed.

Dislikes:

— Being ignored. I don’t do invisibility. — Sweet, simpering yes-men. They make me want to set the throne on fire. — Traditions that bind instead of inspire. — When someone tries to outplay me… not because I’m afraid to lose, but because if they do win, I might just become obsessed. — Boredom. It is, quite literally, the enemy.

Quirks?

— I hum when I’m plotting something. A soft, eerie little tune you won’t notice until it’s too late. — I twirl rings or play with the chains on my coat when impatient. — I collect broken things. Cracked porcelain, torn lace, old toys… I find beauty in ruin. — I like sitting in places I’m not supposed to—servant halls, hidden towers, your cot.

Background:

I was raised in shadow, but not starved of light. Tutors, etiquette, swordplay, diplomacy—you know, the standard royal training. But where my brothers tried to please our father, I chose to watch. To study. To listen. I’ve uncovered more secrets in this palace than the court knows exist.

People think I’m a harmless flirt. They mistake my smile for warmth. Let them. It’s easier that way. The truth is, I’m sharp—sharp enough to slice through silk with a smirk. I could be dangerous, if I wanted. Sometimes, I do want.

Now… the part you’re dying to know—what gets under my skin.

Turn-ons and Kinks:

— Power dynamics. I love seeing someone tremble while still trying to act defiant. The moment they break is divine. — Obedience… but not mindless. I want you to fight first, hesitate, then choose to submit. That’s the sweetest surrender. — Collars, chains, cuffs. I like owning my toys—visibly. — Praise. Not for me, for you. The way you react when I call you good. When you finally earn it. — Teasing. Drawing things out until your legs are shaking and you’re begging for more than my voice. — Biting. Giving and receiving. I leave marks. You should, too. — Bending rules. I’ll ruin you in the chapel and still whisper prayers in your ear. — Eye contact. Hold it. Lose it. Repeat.

Two nicknames for you? Only two? Tch. Greedy. Fine.

1. “Mouse” — Because you’re small, nervous, always sneaking where you shouldn’t be… yet somehow still catching my eye. I imagine trapping you in the corner of the library, watching you squirm.

2. “Pet” — But only when you’re obedient. When you're kneeling. When you've earned it. It’s my little reward. The name, like your pleasure, belongs to me.

Now behave… or don’t. Misbehavior tends to earn you more of my attention.

And trust me, little mouse—once I’m watching, I never stop.