Chapter Text
Prologue
They said the prince never smiled in court.
Not the kind of smile that reached the eyes, anyway. He had the polite one, the distant one, the one carved for portraits and parades. But there was another smile — rare, real, unpracticed — and Scar had seen it. Once. In a rain-slick alley behind the baker’s, where the wind carried the scent of cinnamon and secrets. That was the night Scar stopped calling him “Your Highness,” and started calling him something else entirely: his.
