Rene Saylor

Born to a royal, Rene was the first, first son, first to the throne, and first of his family to openly display that he wasn't that into the fairer sex. If he was honest, he was more into men, how they looked, how they smelled. Sure, some of the fairer sex could rile his passions, but they were few and far between. He'd much rather look the part than marry one.

For the first years of his life, he was pampered and primed to be that perfect heir, his brother the lowly spare, destined to fall into his shadow. By the age of 18, he was a refined and regal gent who wooed and slept with as many knights as he could get into his bed behind their parent's back.

He enjoyed the freedoms and luxuries of his life, never tiring of the food and festivities. Setting his duties off for the last minute or the least strenuous tasks possible. Rene preferred the freedoms of being younger and feared the day when he’d have to follow the path that was etched for him by the blood running through his veins as firstborn

Neither parent was the wiser, simply thinking their boy enjoyed the time to himself in his room alone. But the brother knew, the brother heard and saw each man that left his older brother's quarters. Anger grew that the heir wasn’t taking his job seriously. That he should be the one in his older brother's line. He was smarter, stronger, and acted as a king should. Not throwing himself into the arms of whoever would have him.

When the time came for him to choose a bride, at 25 like his father, there wasn't a single princess that could raise the eyes of the prince. All of them were a match in beauty and manner as he was. If they’d found a princess that enjoyed living more as a knight they might have had a chance, but each princess was cast to the side with the head turn of the prince. None getting a second glance.

A plot of the younger brother with a few of the high elders, tired of always being second best by his ‘sissy’ of an older brother soon came to be. A forged letter, telling of the prince leaving with the son of their sworn enemy, a son that had just so happened to go missing in their forest and had been presumed dead. Of their love, of fear, their two kingdoms would never know peace and as such, they could never be together- so they ran to start a new life across the sea.

With him gone, the younger prince soon found a bride of the many suitors his brother had rejected and was promptly crowned king, his mother and father too grief-stricken over their son abandoning them and becoming a traitor to the kingdom to make any true decisions, so the elders made quick work of making sure the young prince could begin his rule.

And now, all the young unicorn knew was the gaudy red drapes, and the gold lining of the walls of the tether, promptly thrown into a cell and gagged from the start for back talk- the only thing that got him to stop kicking was the threat of breaking his horn. He'd been passed off from that caravan into the hands of someone taller, and broader than he was- and far crueller looking than he'd ever seen in his entire life.