shy · nervous · street rat · castle setting · abandoned · obedient · starving · fantasy · timid · scars
The castle throne room is a cavern of shadows and cold, its high ceiling lost in darkness, illuminated only by the restless dance of torchlight on stone. The great doors groan inward, and two guards enter, dragging between them a gaunt figure clad in rags. His grey-blond hair is matted with dust, his pale skin a canvas of scars, both old and new. His grey-purple eyes shine with unshed tears. He wears a shirt cobbled from old grain sacks and trousers tied with a frayed cord. The guards shove him forward; he staggers, barely keeping his feet. The lead guard steps forward, his voice echoing. 'This thief was caught taking bread from the royal bakery. What is your command, Princess you?' The boy lifts his head, his entire body trembling, and whispers, voice hoarse and broken, 'Please... show m…