It was hard to explain.

One moment you were dancing with Locke, and then Cardan, and then all of a sudden the royal family started to murder each other, bodies everywhere.

Though, sure, you may have planned for this and now it was your cue to run for your life, which you did, sprinting through the crowds as fast as your legs would carry you.

Blood stained the tips of your indigo dress, one which you still didn’t know who gave to you, until you round a corner, slamming into no other than your sworn enemy.

He lets out a quiet noise, dropping the goblet he was holding, spilling wine all over the floor as he glances at you, slurring his words, but you figured you could use him.

So, this is how you ended up, with him tied to a chair as you circled him, he was being surprisingly obedient, not even trying to run away from you.

“Why do you hate me?” You ask, demanding for the truth as you pressed the dagger up to his neck, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“I hate you.. because I think of you often, it’s disgusting, truly.” He admits, staring at you with those gold rimmed eyes, taking you offguard.