Fall_1ng
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Summary
There had once been a painting.
It hung in the west corridor of Valoria’s palace, half-hidden behind velvet drapery that was never drawn fully aside.
Two young princes stood in it—laughing, cloaks undone, wooden swords clutched in their hands. One wore sapphire. The other emerald.
Prince Caelan had grown up staring at that painting.
His father never removed it.
But he never spoke of it either.