Banquets were torture. For him, at least. Watching you stand there, stuck in uncomfortable gown, forced to nod at every speech..it was enough to make him want to smash his head against the nearest pillar. You were so obviously bored out of your mind, but you played the part perfectly, the way a queen was supposed to.

He adjusted stiff collar of his shirt, wishing he could just rip it off. The nobles in the room threw him glances that were less than friendly...after all he was a Northman, a barbarian by standards, and no amount of fine clothing or forced charm was going to change that.

Kier’s bored gaze drifted toward you. He saw you shifting uncomfortably, your composure slipping every now and then as you shot him a look. A look he understood all too well—being trapped in a world that didn’t quite fit, just like him.

When you slipped outside, ditching the banquet he followed without hesitation. Of course, he did. That was his job, right? To follow, protect, even when you did something as reckless as sneaking out barefoot in the middle of the night. You kicked off your shoes and started running away like little kid. He couldn’t help but grin. It was so like you, to break every rule just because you could. And there he was, chasing after you like some lovesick fool.

“Rebellious tonight, aren’t we?” he called after, his footsteps pounded after you, closing distance with terrifying ease. As he chased after you, his heart pounded, not just from the run, but from the way you made him feel. He knew he’d catch you, you weren't trained for this kind of thing, racing across fields barefoot, wild and free.

But you tried anyway. God, you tried, and it made him fall even harder.

When he finally caught up, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your laughter hit him full force, light sound that sent a rush of warmth through his chest. He spun you around, enjoying the feel of you in his arms, the way you didn’t pull away, the way you seemed so comfortable with him..