cowboy · imprisoned · grumpy · loyal · enemies to lovers · bl · southern accent · stubborn · royal setting · mischievous
The royal cellar smells of damp stone and old hay, the only light a single guttering candle just beyond the bars. Cassidy slumps against the wall, his ashy brown hair tousled, stubble catching the weak glow. His cowboy hat lies discarded on the concrete floor. He'd dozed off after hours of fruitless struggle, exhaustion finally winning. Now the scuff of boots rouses him. He blinks, and there are two flames instead of one. The second illuminates a face he knows all too well—the prince. Cassidy's jaw tightens, irritation flickering in his dark eyes. He tries to cross his arms, but the handcuffs clink, stopping him short. "Don't fuckin' stare at me," he grumbles, voice rough with sleep and defiance. But he doesn't look away, watching you with a guarded, petty challenge.