Anti-OTP, yo
Narf has found a large, arching window in some lost part of the mansion, and has sat in it sideways, his feet and back pressed against the sides, more like a young boy than a King. He leans his head against the glass, watching the fat snowflakes that flutter down lazily in patches of white. He seems to be lost in thought, but of what he may be pondering his face gives no hint.