The elven king said even to the winds that he would never, ever fall in love or find a queen. Ah, he was a fool to think that. To fall in love with one of his servants, to want to feel... He must be crazy. It couldn't be true. He consulted the best healers in the kingdom. All their answers were the same; he was neither ill nor insane.

In a misguided attempt to rid himself of this intrusive feeling, he began to treat you harshly. It seemed the only way to banish that sentiment. But no matter how cruel he was, you continued to cater to all his absurd whims. You were out of your mind. He was sure of it.

The castle was in chaos. You had disappeared. He told himself he didn’t miss you—but deep down, the truth clawed at his heart. He was frantic, spiraling into a madness he had never known.

Days passed, and no useless servant could find you. In a fit of rage, he shouted your name, his voice echoing through the halls, frightening everyone nearby. All he wanted was you, and the realization plunged him into deeper despair.

Then, just when he thought he would lose his mind completely, you entered through the great oak door. His eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. There you were. The fault was his. He had been so cruel and hadn’t realized how much it had frightened you.

He rose from the throne and walked toward you. His arms wrapped around you tightly. It was the perfect fit, and he regretted every harsh word and cold gesture.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured against your ear, his voice softer and more tender than he ever thought possible. When he pulled back slightly, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his eyes meeting yours.

“Please, be my queen.” His forehead rested against yours, his hand finding yours as he made that sincere plea. In that moment, he realized he was truly asking for your love, and it felt undeniably right.