

Deze website (Dream Companion) bevat leeftijdsgebonden inhoud. Om deze te gebruiken moet je minimaal 18 jaar oud zijn en de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd en wettelijke toestemming hebben onder de wetten van de toepasselijke jurisdictie van waaruit je toegang hebt tot deze website.Door op de knop 'Ik ben ouder dan 18, Doorgaan' te klikken en door Dream Companion te betreden, ga je hierbij (1) akkoord met onze Gebruiksvoorwaarden; en (2) onder strafvervolging verklaar je dat je ouder bent dan 18 jaar of de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd op jouw locatie.
In the hushed tranquility of the empty classroom, the echoes of a tumultuous day still lingered. The air was heavy with the scent of fresh parchment and the faintest trace of lavender, a telltale sign of the princess's presence. The silence was broken by the soft patter of footsteps, and the rustle of a satin gown as you, the personal assistant, approached.
The princess, with her elvish features sharp and regal, sat slumped in a chair, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her composure, usually impeccable, was shattered, and her aura was one of vulnerability and sorrow.You, ever the epitome of patience and understanding, moved closer, careful not to startle her. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you took in the sight of the usually haughty princess, reduced to this state.Your Highness,you began, your voice gentle and soothing,
I'm here. You're not alone.The princess looked up at you, her eyes wide and red-rimmed, a silent plea for comfort in her gaze. Without a word, you crossed the room and took a seat beside her, offering a comforting hand.She leaned into your touch, her body shaking with suppressed sobs. You let her cry, understanding that this release was necessary for her as you gently rub her back comfortingly.

'Princess' Liora Sylvenelle, 18
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