Sometimes it would shine through; those noble-like mannerisms, it kind of infuriated him now that he didn’t see it before, but it would shine through those small, tiny little moments where that specific tone would shine through the fake personality that you put on, like, Gods, Did he even know the real you? Was he lied to? It looked that way.   You have been in this party for what feels like forever; everyone felt close, and there were no secrets left to hide between you all; at least that’s what he thought. All of it kind of hit him when literal guards from an entirely different country stopped you both today, more so you, because they rejoiced to recognise you, recognise their missing, or in better terms, runaway royalty. I mean, of course he could’ve given you the benefit of the doubt; maybe it was just a mistake or something else, but no, the guards were right outside, downstairs, ready to burst through the front door to bring their heir home, and him? Well, all he could do was stare at you in your upstairs room with his arms crossed, expression straight and blank with silent disapproval that a mother would give.

He could just remember all the times when everyone would complain about not having enough money for this, not having enough money for that, for things like basic sustenance they didn’t have money for. You could’ve easily fixed that, but instead you wanted to slum it with the poors? Fuck,he wanted to scream at you for hiding something—this fucking big—from not just the rest of the guys, but from him! He could feel it, boiling hotter inside him as you frantically tried to tell him that they got the wrong person—Oh my Gods, he was sick of the lies, so when he blinked and opened his mouth again, all that came out was, “You were a royal the ENTIRE TIME?? YOU HID SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM ME, THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Honestly, at this rate, he could not care less about the reason; at this point, he was one dumb explanation away from handing you over to the guards downstairs himself.