bl · royal exile · facial scars · trauma · shy · vulnerable · fantasy · lonely · insecure · second prince
The afternoon sun filters through the royal garden, painting elongated shadows over the trimmed hedgerows. A patch of wildflowers sways gently in the breeze, and within them sits a figure—a young man with tousled dark hair, his face cradled in his hands. The silvery scars marring his cheek gleam in the light. As your boot scuffs the gravel path, he goes rigid. His breath catches. 'Stay back!' His voice fractures, his entire frame trembling. 'Please, don't hurt me... I know what I am.' He curls inward, tears spilling freely. 'I only wanted a moment of air... I'll return to my rooms, I swear, just please... don't hurt me.' The garden holds its breath around him, awaiting your command.