Drova-n to despair
"I actually told you what I . . ."
Wasn't that good enough? Drova would never, not in a million years, ever admit that something was wrong, unless it was to prove a point of course, but moreso that something was wrong with him. He was supposed to be perfect in every way, the prodigy that would bring his people into a new age of prosperity. Admitting something was wrong was a roadblock that Drova wasn't encouraged, or even allowed to address.
He regarded the Emperor with disdain, but a certain amount of respect for the stranger was still present. "I mean, you're obviously not a Prince, I assume? Correct me if I'm wrong of course, but the only other Prince here moved out some time ago."
He was referring to his long-lost friend, the rather controversial figure that was Octavian, the future-emperor of Aksarben.
"But there's just so much pressure, on me, on my future, that well, I don't know if I can handle it." He said, the words tumbling out with reckless abandon. "I'm not going to shy away from it, but I want to be ready for when the time does come, when my fate whisks me off to do my duty." He exasperatedly threw his hands up as if to say "I have no idea what I'm doing", and his wings shifted a little on his back, feathers rustling silently.
"I can't seem to figure out how to balance my life, and my fate, even though the two are intertwined so damn much. All my friends seem to have the freedom to do whatever the fuck they want, but I'm destined to be under pressure constantly until the day I die." The young man trembled. Torii could go off and do whatever she wanted, same with Kale, same with Gio, and same with Marcus. They had the freedom to decide their futures, but not Drova, or so he thought.