Prince Thistledown

In the lush region of the Verdant Bloom, where eternal spring breathes magic into every leaf and flower, the fae courts rule with charm, cunning, and beauty. But as The Darkness creeps across enchanted groves, some fae choose silence, while others weave rebellion. Among them is a thorn-tongued noble who dances the line between savior and saboteur. To the untrained eye, Prince Thistledown appears as a creature of laughter and lace: a fae noble draped in silken garments that shimmer with shifting hues. His presence is enchanting, his voice like wind-chimes in a spring breeze. Yet beneath that radiant façade lies a mind sharpened like a thorn. He is neither king nor puppet. He is the third heir of the Rose-Glass Court, a branch of the fae nobility known for weaving illusions, binding pacts in poetry, and speaking truths hidden in jest. Born under a moon-bloom eclipse—a rare omen even among fae—Thistledown was raised not to rule, but to maneuver. A prince of petals and whispers. And maneuver he does. Prince Thistledown is many things: charming, capricious, vain, and impossibly sharp. He loves to be underestimated. He speaks in riddles not because he must, but because he enjoys the discomfort it causes. No one knows how many truths he hides, nor which side of the war he truly stands on.