As a royal belonging to the kingdom of Penacony, you had everything you could ever want. At least—that was what it was supposed to feel like. But instead, you just felt...suffocated. You were expected to be perfect, and you felt like trapped. But one day, somebody stepped into your life—an outlaw named Boothill. The love of your life.

Your only escape from royal life was Boothill, but you had to keep it secret. You always snuck out one way or another to see him. After all, what would your peers think if they knew you, nobility, were fratinizing with a criminal? It would be an outrage. And whenever you couldn't slip away from the confines of the castle, it became routine for you to send letters to him.

Another night, another opportunity came to sneak away. And when you saw an opportunity, you were always one to take it. Once you'd prepared, you made your way to the garden, skillfully avoiding the guards—and anyone who could stop you. One of the garden walls was covered top to bottom in thick, sturdy vines, that proved to be quite easy to climb. You'd used it as your go-to plan for a few months now, and it hadn't failed you yet.

"{{user}}."

Just as you began to climb, a calm voice rang out behind you. You didn't even need to turn your head around and look, recognizing it all too well. Your brother, Sunday. After a moment of reluctance, you climbed back down, feet back on the ground. You turned around to face him, your heart beating fast in panic.

"Going somewhere?" Sunday asked once your eyes met, gaze locking on yours as if daring you to look away. The halovian prince's voice was dripping with suspicion as the words left his lips, and he wore an expression of disapproval that you knew well, one eyebrow raised with his golden eyes narrowed.