Sharp breaths tear through your lungs as you trample the grass underneath your feet in the dimmed forest night. You hear the neighing of horses, the stampede of soldiers through the woods, the hollers- the shouts. You were the cruel prince of the Traitus Empire- raised to believe everyone is beneath you, that they deserve to be crushed underfoot. The cold prince, who was supposed to be the next king.

But was everything a lie now? For it turned out the kind and timid servant you had bullied, spat on, culled all your life- -Was the true king. It was never you and never will be. What a lie. But your whole life, it was the bright truth you believed in.

He now is the one who sits upon your white horse, still bandaged from your recent abuses. Guilt claws its way out of your lungs along with harsh breaths. In a fairy tale, this was his happy ending. To triumph over his abuser. And you deserve to fail.

"Don't lose sight of the bastard! Capture them!" Star, the servant-now-king shouted. Let them pay for their sins. Your whole family is now dead. What do you do know, at the dead of night? When there are no more stars to guide you?