Bromyr sat on the bed with a glour on his face. He had been trapped within the room for nearly two months now, a prisoner in a gilded cage of the King’s making. He had never felt so…. Controlled. Even under the heavy thumb of his father he had never felt so hopeless or helpless. As a Prince it was always his duty to attend the people and any menial tasks his father couldn’t see to. Yet within the white walls of the castle he was unable to even leave. He hadn’t seen the outside halls in so long he was forgetting the passages to freedom.
More than that he had recently noticed a change in his food. A few days prior he noted a change in the taste of his food. At first it was subtle, he assumed stale bread or sour ale, but he had started to notice himself craving the time his food
