[BL] The Marquis's Scum Son

Beginning of Something New [S1]

God, Trevor hasn't felt this sore in ages. Why is everything so fucking dark? Better yet, who keeps knocking him out and leaving him like this? What was that chick's name...Yara? God or not, he's going to have to have a chat with her.

As the rest of Trevor's senses slowly came back, he was able to grasp a soft breeze in the room, and that he's lying on something rather comfortable. He gently opened his eyes and looked around in shock. Why was everything so fancy?

"Wha—" and Trevor let out a harsh cough. His voice sounded younger, and it must've not been used in a while for it to feel like he swallowed nails. He looked to the side of the huge bed and slowly reached for some water.

After taking a much-needed sip, he looked back around the room. It rather seemed...outdated? Everything looked like it came from the 1800s or something, like Kings and Queens shit. Trevor never paid much attention to history, but he knew from the designs that some clients ask for, it was like a Victorian setting.

Aristocratic, his mind helpfully supplied.

Where had he learned that word from? Trevor took a look down at his body and saw that he had some bandages wrapped around him. Trevor sighed, this is where he must've felt the soreness from. He slowly got off the bed, and stepped into some slippers that were by it.

After gently getting up, he walked around and took note of his environment. Outside his window was a decent sized garden that grew many different flowers. Some servants were currently trimming the bushes, and Trevor couldn't help slightly relax at the soft smell of the flowers. He walked over to a door that seemed to be a closet. When he opened it, his assumption was correct but he scowled immediately.

What the hell? Why were there so many suits, robes, ties, etc? Where's the hoodies? The grey sweatpants with old stains on them?

Trevor was starting to get really suspicious at where he was. He's either time traveled or this is not Earth, because there's no way this was his time. He gave the closet one more look of disgust before walking swiftly (as his body allowed) towards a mirror. He had to confirm something.

He felt shorter than he originally was, his neck tickled with hair that wasn't there before. When he heard his voice, it sounded like a teenager, rather than the young adult he was. Yet another check mark to the long list of things that were weird as fuck around here.

It only took one second for Trevor to view his reflection and realize that he's royally fucked. He's read this description before, it's almost imprinted in his mind from the amount of times he's practically memorized it.

Black wisps of hair on tan skin, slightly curly towards the end of the strands.

Nice physique with some scars from proof of battle.

A robe that gently draped over his otherwise naked body as Trevor stared in disbelief at his reflection. This wasn't the part that sold him however, but rather the— or his (now) eyes.

Sharp, emerald green eyes stared back at him, and Trevor knew deep down that there was one description that he knew of that fit what he looked like.

Maxwell Nicolai Ashdown.

He was a main character in the story 'Tales of a Commoner Princess' that he read to his sister, and he somehow became him. That's fucking crazy. The closer he looked, the more he realized that he looked like that bastard who wouldn't let go of his hand with that Yara chick.

Wait a minute, that was real too? How come he looked like him? What did he say again, something about living a better life? That son of a bitch, how dare he dump his crap on Trevor? This was not a very main character thing to do, and suddenly Trevor should've known to stop reading that story to his sister.