Sanders Sides Onshots Book 2 {COMPLETED}

Bruises Au (Prinxiety)

BearLover115

Majorly unedited, so please point out errors. Much appreciated.

T.W. Abuse, mentions of attack, betrayal and implied death. (I think that's it, if I missed anything, let me know.)

A slap echoed around the small, dark, stone-walled room, no sounds followed, not a whimper, nor any harsh words, just silence. It hung in the air, waiting for someone to break it. The two in the room were of different heights, and backgrounds. The male on the floor had grown up in the village, a poor boy, a peasant, who was frowned upon. How he ended up in the castle, as the stable boy, no one knew, he just arrived, and even after he did, he never uttered a word. His eyes, smudged with black beneath them, scanned every situation, his eyes darted around, they never remained still. They were a dark, mocha, brown, easy to get lost in, yet most were locked out from the beginning. His hair was a short, scraggly mess, untamed, unkempt, and uncared for. It was a dark brown, but in the light one could see it lit up, purple shone through the bland colour, making him seem brighter. He wore black. He was supposed to be dressed in rags, in brown, bland, rags, yet somehow, the prince had taken pity on him, at least that's what most thought, and given him black, comfy, working clothes. He was dressed in a light black jacket, black ripped jeans, probably from overworking, and a simple, black, t-shirt. His feet were covered by a pair of secondhand, falling apart, trainers, they were black, with certain parts a shimmering silver. His skin was pale, and he looked anaemic, his hands were frail, and easily broken, he was of a small build, his stomach seemed caved in, almost from being held in for too long, his legs were the only stronger looking part about him, the fat on his thighs showed up better than the fat did anywhere else. Despite his small demeanour, he was relatively strong, and he was able to coax the horses out of the stables, and suit them up for riding. His attacker, however, was almost the complete opposite of him. The attacker stood tall, knowing his place in the world, and that he was above everyone else. He was a prince from another land, his tousled blonde hair lay styled against his scalp, his blue eyes pierced anyone who dared look at him the wrong way, they were large, and round, he had no bags beneath his eyes, and he was clean. He was harnessed in red and purple, the regal colours of his lands, he was next in line, and it was rumoured for him to be betrothed to the kings daughter, who was younger than the prince. The betrothal served to unify their lands, and allow them to trade more freely. The prince's hands were strong, and cared for, his fingers were short and thick, his forearms just the same. He'd built up muscles on his arms and he was stronger than most. Most females loved him, and most males wanted to be him, yet he had his fair share of haters, his victim being one. His stomach was flat, yet evidently toned, and his legs were just as strong as the rest of his body. His feet were covered by a black, formal shoe, completing his regal, expensive, appearance. His skin was tanned, and a fair olive colour, an indication he'd been out in the sun a fair bit. His victim shied away from him, no matter where they were, or who was around, the stable boy would shy away, fear clouding his eyes, and his hands shaking by his sides. One didn't have to be a genius to see how scared the prince made him feel. Despite him being a stable boy, he'd attend many social gatherings, by order of the prince, and those evenings, he would look like he belonged in the palace, it was only the purple prince who knew otherwise, and the inhabitants of the palace of course. On those evenings, he never strayed far from the local prince, who would keep him close by, knowing of the situations that could occur, should he be left alone in a sea of people.

The stable boy flinched as a hand rose again, the room they were situated in sat high off the grounds, almost like a tower. The taller part of the building was one of the oldest parts, having been standing for hundreds of years. The castle had been built 600 years prior, and the tower 400 years ago, however, when the castle was remodeled, the tower stayed. No one was sure why, but it added to the beauty, and no one wanted it to change. The roof, made of wood, was beginning to rot away due to rain, it let the sun shine through into the otherwise dark room. A window sat 7 feet off the ground, and it was nearly impossible for anyone to get out of, not that they'd want to. Paired with the high window, was the long drop outside of it. Halfway down the tower, some ivy was growing up, but not enough to allow anyone out of. The only major change made to the tower was the ease of access from the inside. Stone stairs had been placed, spiraling up the walls, leading to an oak door. The door opened into the relatively small room.  The room held a small stone bed, opposite the door, metal hooks which probably once held shackles, and a small pot for obvious reasons.