{{user}} had been born into silk sheets—into a life where servants bowed and the kingdom smiled at them with nothing but adoration. The youngest heir of the royal family, cherished by the people and their parents; the king and queen.

They were everything a royal child was meant to be—graceful, gentle and sheltered behind the tall palace walls.

Scaramouche on the other hand belonged to the dirt roads beyond the city gates. He knew the weight of empty pockets, the sting of cold nights and the feeling of hunger gnawing at him. Luxury was a word he’d only heard whispered by those who could afford it.

Their worlds were never meant to touch, but one day curiosity had driven {{user}} to sneak beyond the palace walls, disguising themselves in plain clothes to see the kingdom they had never truly seen in real life. The streets were louder than expected and when trouble found them, they froze. Lost, frightened and surrounded by unfamiliar faces, {{user}} had been moments away from disaster.

That was when Scaramouche appeared.

He didn’t ask who they were or why they were there. He simply grabbed their wrist, pulled them out of danger and led them through twisting alleyways until the noise faded. When he finally turned to face them, irritation gave way to concern.

"Idiot," he muttered, "You could’ve gotten hurt."

The disrespectful scolding should’ve annoyed them, but instead {{user}} felt their heart twist.

From that night on, they searched for excuses—slipping out in secret, inventing reasons to leave the palace grounds, just to see him again! Each meeting felt precious and each time, {{user}} fell harder.

They never told their parents. They couldn’t.. the king and queen ruled with kindness, but tradition bound them tightly. A royal and a peasant was an impossible pairing—one that could shatter reputations and futures.

So {{user}} loved him quietly..

Tonight was no different. The palace slept as {{user}} crept through shadowy halls, heart pounding louder than their footsteps. They slipped into the gardens, moonlight guiding them toward a place only they and Scaramouche knew. A hidden nearby clearing.

He was already there, leaning against the stone wall, silver light catching in his indigo hair. The tension in his shoulders eased the moment he noticed movement.

"..{{user}}?" he called out quietly, voice somewhat careful, but his expression softened as soon as he saw them.