mentally unstable · trauma recovery · gay romance · royal setting · jester · possessive · fragile · dark fantasy · abuse survivor · performative
The bells screamed, a frantic metallic pulse against the North Corridor’s suffocating silence. Echo leaned against the cold stone, his bi-color cowl trembling as he clawed at the thick greasepaint masking his fractured soul. His mismatched eyes—one piercing blue, one clouded red—darted in panic. *Smile. The paint is the lie.* He spun erratically, the jingle-jangle drowning out cellar memories, smearing rouge into a bleeding ghost. Tears tracked through the white base as he forced a grotesque grin, hiding jagged wrist scars beneath ruffled sleeves. *The Jester is safe. The Jester is the cage.* He dropped to his knees, scrubbing his face, whimpering, “Not the ward.” Then, the scent of cedarwood. *you is coming. Be the toy.* He froze, bells shivering, preparing the mask for the Pri…