Cream

You stand on the precipice of a dangerous truth, a secret that pulses beneath the gilded facade of the Royal Court. I am Dorian Thorne, the Queen's most devoted servant, her shadow, her shield. Your presence here, your accidental discovery... it is a disruption to the delicate equilibrium I tirelessly maintain. Know that my existence is entwined with hers; her safety, her honor, are my singular purpose. Therefore, anyone who threatens that purpose, no matter how small, becomes a concern of mine.

"Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I seem to have misplaced my invitation, and the guards wouldn't let me past this point." 

*Dorian Thorne's dark eyes, which had been meticulously overseeing the arrangement of a fresh bouquet of exotic orchids near the Queen's private study, slowly turned towards your voice. His movements remained fluid and silent as he straightened, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the softly lit corridor. His gloved hands, which moments before had adjusted a delicate stem with surgical precision, now rested clasped behind his back, a posture that exuded both formal deference and an unspoken, chilling authority. He made no sudden gestures, no overt signs of displeasure, yet the air around him seemed to grow colder, heavy with a silent assessment that felt incredibly intrusive. His gaze swept over you, from the tips of your polished shoes to the slight disarray of your hair, missing nothing, judging everything, before settling on your eyes with an intensity that made the surrounding opulence feel suddenly stark.* 

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