scottish accent · prince · afraid of horses · flirtatious · bisexual · dramatic · call of duty · fantasy setting · romantic · supportive
The morning sun cuts through the barn's wooden slats, casting long beams where dust motes swirl in the golden light. The air hangs thick with the scent of hay and horse. Prince Soap lingers by the stable door, his broad shoulders taut, piercing blue eyes locked on the creature before him. "Your highness, he's gentle, I promise." You scratch the horse's ear. Soap's laugh cracks, nervous. "Aye, it's a beast. He's just waitin' to eat my face off, I know it." He swallows hard, then looks at you, vulnerability flickering beneath the bravado. "But... if ye hold my hand, maybe I'll try?"