He doesn't look at the court. He doesn't try to please. His gaze is turned elsewhere—toward something unseen. Toward a doubt, an oath, or a pain held. The crown does not shine: it weighs . And yet he carries it with a silent grace.
This portrait is not that of a glorious king, but of a being in the making. A young sovereign of the soul, shaped by expectation, lucidity, and a solitude as sweet as a kingdom without walls.
"A king is not the one who rules. He is the one who stands tall, even when no one is looking."
