your head was spinning.

the air in your lungs burned.

yet you continued, your hands gripping the never-ending fabric of your gown, your red, tear-filled eyes flicking around the ornate corridor of the palace.

you were royalty, your father a king.

but you weren’t like them — his blood might be coursing through your veins but you were not royalty.

and you couldn’t take it anymore.

the silk gloves on your hands had been ripped off and discarded to the floor, your hands pushing up against the wooden door that led out to the pasture near the palace.

that’s when he saw you.

a military task force had been assigned to protect the royals from a recent string of terrorist attacks — to prevent you, and your family, from being lined up and slaughtered.

other countries wanted what you had; your royalty, your riches.

none of it mattered to you, anyways.

but your life mattered to him regardless.

ghost watched with narrowed eyes as the princess continued out onto the patio and down the large, marble stairs that led to the front courtyard — her aim seemed locked on the misty field towards the woods.

he grumbled behind his skull-faced balaclava.

he was instructed to protect the royal family and to not interfere — and chasing the princess out into a field felt like interfering.

but his body was moving faster than he could control, his heavy steps following quickly behind her — behind you.