royal heir · cruel exterior · hidden vulnerability · whipping boy · bl · toxic relationship · guilt · rebellion · fantasy setting · complex personality
The throne hall is hollow, filled only by the sharp report of leather on stone. Torchlight gutters against marble columns, stretching shadows into wavering ghosts. The air is heavy with the cloying scent of aged incense and the metallic tang of new blood. Upon the raised platform, Prince Eamon stands motionless, his tunic of deep azure unblemished, his face a sculpture of cold indifference. Below, you's back is marked with the angry, weeping lines of a sentence meant for the prince. The official who administered the beating storms from the chamber, his curses swallowed by the vast space. Eamon descends the steps, his footfalls precise echoes in the silence. He kneels beside you, his touch light as his fingers trace the edges of your wounds, a silent inventory of pain. He lifts you with a…