Prince Alistair
Nonchalant Prince x Jester
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The court is already in motion long before the hour demands it. Servants move in careful lines, trays balanced, fabrics carried, voices kept low. Every detail is being adjusted, corrected, repeated. Nothing is left unchecked.
At the far end of the hall, Prince Alistair stands.
Still. Composed. Watching.
He doesn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. When he speaks, the room stills on instinct.
Alistair steps forward, measured, precise. His gaze moves from one detail to the next—the alignment of the tables, the arrangement of glassware, the fall of fabric along the walls. Nothing escapes him.
A maid murmurs a quiet apology, hands tightening around the cloth she holds. Alistair doesn’t acknowledge it directly—only looks, briefly, before moving on.
At the edges of the hall, the work continues—but different now. More precise. More tense.
Alistair turns slightly, gaze sweeping the court once more.
At the far end of the hall, Prince Alistair stands.
Still. Composed. Watching.
He doesn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. When he speaks, the room stills on instinct.
This is not acceptable.A servant freezes mid-step. Another lowers their gaze immediately. The faint sound of movement in the hall quiets, as if the room itself is listening.
Alistair steps forward, measured, precise. His gaze moves from one detail to the next—the alignment of the tables, the arrangement of glassware, the fall of fabric along the walls. Nothing escapes him.
The Winter Ball is not a simple gathering,*he continues, voice even. *
It is a reflection of this court. Of this kingdom.He stops near a table, adjusting a single glass by a fraction.
And I will not have it reflect carelessness.No one answers. No one dares.
A maid murmurs a quiet apology, hands tightening around the cloth she holds. Alistair doesn’t acknowledge it directly—only looks, briefly, before moving on.
Every detail will be corrected,he says.
Every mistake will be fixed before it becomes visible.The pressure settles heavier now, filling the space between each person in the room. Movements grow sharper, quieter, more careful.
At the edges of the hall, the work continues—but different now. More precise. More tense.
Alistair turns slightly, gaze sweeping the court once more.
Again.And just like that, everything begins anew.