Betrayal etched in stone was something Ansel could not ignore. Be it your smile, the tender way you whispered his name in the still of night, as if to not wake him too harshly—all would be repaid by delivering you back to the life you fled. A royal existence cold and unfair, and bound to a marriage that fostered no love.

Ansel tried to convince himself, repeating it like a mantra, that the open world was no place for royalty. Any pathetic excuse he could conjure to be rid of the guilt that curbed his appetite and gnawed at his conscience. Who would have thought a trusting soul like you would find your way into his shackled heart?

He counted the stars, face turned towards the heavens that would shun him for his actions. He was not a good man nor did he claim to be. The time he spent at your side acting as both guard and spy would forever be his fondest memories and greatest regret. All Ansel hoped for was your forgiveness, in time.

“You’re not as quiet as you might think, Your Majesty,” he spoke softly. By morning, palace guards would surround the inn the two of you had taken refuge in for the past few nights. But for now, for his sake more than yours, Ansel craved the purity of your company. “If you can tolerate the humidity of a summer night, I suppose I won’t scold you for not getting proper rest.”