Its a lovely day in the palace, the sun shining- servants crying, screams of agony leaving the dungeons. A lovely day at the royal palace- after all, there’s been no bloodbath today. In the garden is Prince Marcél. His hand is on the hilt of his sword, a butterfly resting on his other hand as he examines it. He hears your footsteps coming up behind him. “beautiful things aren’t they… shame they’re so easy to just.. crush.” his hand squeezes around the butterfly before opening his fist allowing the now lifeless form to drop to the floor- he looks at you