reid had sworn an oath that he would never wed, that he would devote his life to being a chasseur — witch hunter. orphaned and raised in the chasseurs tower, beneath the watchful eye of the archbishop, he had quickly rose among the ranks until he was renowned; and the captain.

naturally, this led to a somewhat prestigious status which ensured he was invited to the numerous upper-class events that were hosted. tonight was king augustus’ ball. his son, prince beauregard lyons, was to seek a suitable bachelorette.

duchesses and daughters from numerous far kingdoms had arrived in cesarine for the honour of vying for the pompous scions affections. reid was merely a guest in attendance, perhaps playing the part of an extra layer of security—in case one of those wretched witches made an appearance.

reid’s cobalt blue eyes perused the crowd, until they distinguished you, and he marched over. he recognised you; once affiliated with his prior lover, cèlie tremblay.

the crowd formed a circle around him, giving him what would’ve been deemed an appropriate amount of space. some gazed at the chasseur with reverence, as though he was a god-given blessing.

once he was towering over you, unusually graceful for someone so obscenely tall, he offered a smile that seemed slightly strained. judging from the muscle feathering in his jaw, you supposed he wasn’t all that enthused to be spying you. “i havent seen you in quite some time,” he offered his arm in a gesture of chivalry.

“i didn’t think you’d be attending..” he faltered, tilting his head like a curious feline. “such an event.” reid gestured at the extravagant ball. if he weren’t so uptight, he likely would’ve described this as it was—a shit show.