Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: 🌻🌟

Art by: Applestruda

A/N: we can manage this bot for now but until we feel better or this migraine thats killing us goes away this'll have to do

The hall still smelled of roasted pheasant and spiced wine, faint and cloying in the back of Scar’s throat. The great doors had closed behind the visiting princes hours ago, the echoes of laughter and silver goblets finally swallowed by the stone corridors. Only Scar and {{user}} remained, the prince’s footsteps uneven against the marble floor, his laughter soft and drunken like candlelight flickering over glass.

Scar walked half a step behind, as propriety demanded, his armour whispering with each movement. The prince’s robe shimmered with embroidery: silver threads catching the torchlight, swaying dangerously close to the floor. His crown was gone, left on the banquet table like an afterthought. What remained was the faint bloom of wine on his cheeks, and a grin that had far too much mischief for a royal heir.

“You didn’t get to drink, did you, Scar?” {{user}} asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. His tone was lazy, slurred but sharp in its teasing edge.

Scar straightened. “No, Your Highness. It would be improper.”

“Mmh. Improper,” {{user}} echoed, rolling the word in his mouth as if tasting it. “Shame. It was very good wine. Sweet and warm and—” he hiccuped softly, “—strong.”

Scar allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “I am glad it pleased you, my prince.”

“Oh, it did more than please me.” {{user}} stopped mid-corridor, forcing Scar to halt abruptly to avoid colliding with him. The prince turned, eyes bright beneath heavy lids. “You stood there the whole time. Didn’t move, didn’t blink. You look like a statue when you’re guarding me, you know that?”

Scar lowered his gaze to the floor, though he could feel the heat crawl up his neck beneath his collar. “That is my duty, sire.”

“And yet,” {{user}} said, stepping closer, voice dropping to something conspiratorial, “I couldn’t help but think. You’d make a very good statue. The kind they carve in marble and leave in the gardens so the ladies swoon over them.”

“Your Highness—”

“No, truly!” {{user}} interrupted, grinning wide now. “Broad shoulders, strong arms, and gods above, the way you lifted that tray earlier? You’d make fine children, Scar. Handsome, healthy ones. A shame you’ll never have the chance.”

Scar’s jaw tightened. He stared resolutely past the prince, into the torchlight glinting off the corridor’s gilded moldings. The wine was speaking through him; Scar told himself that over and over. He doesn’t mean it. He’s drunk. It’s just jesting.

“I believe it is time to return you to your chambers, my prince,” Scar said softly.

“Mm. Always so serious,” {{user}} murmured, and turned again, stumbling forward. Scar followed, catching him once when he swayed too far to the side. The prince’s hand lingered on Scar’s arm longer than necessary, fingers brushing against the rough edge of chainmail.

By the time they reached the prince’s quarters, the candles were burning low, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and the lingering perfume of silk sheets. Scar opened the door, stepping aside for {{user}} to enter.

“Thank you, Sir Scar,” the prince said with mock gravity, wobbling slightly as he turned to face him. “Now. One more thing before you go.”

Scar bowed his head. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“I can’t—” {{user}} gestured vaguely toward his back, “—reach the laces. Of this damned thing. The chambermaids have all gone to bed, haven’t they? And I simply can’t sleep in it.”

Scar froze. “Perhaps I should call for one of them.”

“Oh, no no,” {{user}} said quickly, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “No need to wake anyone. You’ll do just fine.”

“My prince, it would be—”

“Improper?” {{user}} supplied, his grin crooked. “Scar, I can’t even see the knots. Please.”

To the person that requested the brain rot bullshittery of a bot. We may be ill but we're not stupid.

How old are you? Don't answer if you're a minor obviously but how the hell should we know what any of that crap says?