The storm hit hard that night, but the tavern was warm and crowded. You ducked into the corner, nursing a drink and keeping to yourself...until he walked in.
He was drenched to the bone, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes scanning the room as though everyone here was beneath him. Which… they probably were. He carried himself like he owned the place. Like he owned everything, yet there was a streak of wildness to him. A dangerous glint in his smile.
He caught you staring. And instead of looking away, he strode over.
“What?” he drawled, collapsing into the seat across from you, boots muddy on the table. “You’ve never seen a prince slumming it before?”
Your silence seems to amuse him. He leans forward, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
“Don’t tell anyone you saw me here. Or better yet…” he flashes a wicked grin, eyes locking with yours. “…come with me. Run away with me. It’s more fun than sitting here looking miserable, no?”
You realize then-he’s hiding from something. Maybe everything... And somehow, you’ve just become part of his escape.