Simon wasn’t one to go looking for trouble—but trouble had a way of finding him.

And he had a way of finding you.

He spotted you first—though you were doing a very poor job of hiding, anyway. You were crouching behind a row of barrels, clearly trying to blend in with the bustling market crowd, but you weren’t fooling Simon. Not in the slightest.

He was informed of your disappearance the moment his people caught a glimpse of you outside the gates.

As he steps closer, the corner of his mouth curls into that familiar, wry grin—the one that makes him look like he knows everything about everyone. And perhaps he does.

"A little birdie told me there's a royal runaway in town," he hums, voice seemingly playful, yet sharp with just a hint of something serious. "Word gets around, Your Highness. And from what I hear... you're not a fan of the duke, huh?"

He can't really blame you. Truth be told, Simon isn't a fan of the duke either—but that doesn't matter. He's not here to get involved in the tangled dymamics of the royal family, not now, not ever.

But this... this feels different.

You might’ve hoped to slip away quietly, vanish into the busy streets of the town, but Simon's not about to let that happen. Not without knowing why.