[He has no shame; if he'd shared stories of his uncomfortable shuffling about at formal events as a teenager, it might be different, but what child wouldn't be shy in a party full of grown-ups who say a lot without meaning anything, with no one to talk to and no real business being there at all? His memories of those days are vague, but the strongest is burying his face in that comfortable dark material, clutching at a pant leg, his father's hand brushing idly through his hair as he talked to other old men about treaties and trade and the unending war. He'd just wanted Ignis, or his toys, or to hide away in bed. Or to be anything except a prince.]
no subject
Nailed it.
[He has no shame; if he'd shared stories of his uncomfortable shuffling about at formal events as a teenager, it might be different, but what child wouldn't be shy in a party full of grown-ups who say a lot without meaning anything, with no one to talk to and no real business being there at all? His memories of those days are vague, but the strongest is burying his face in that comfortable dark material, clutching at a pant leg, his father's hand brushing idly through his hair as he talked to other old men about treaties and trade and the unending war. He'd just wanted Ignis, or his toys, or to hide away in bed. Or to be anything except a prince.]