You’ve escaped. Again.

He’s storming through the halls, the heels of his boots clanking angrily against the marble tiles as he heads to the entrance. He’s grabbing all sorts of things on the way: a bow and arrow, some rope, his sword, and a bottle of teal pills that are very inconspicuously named ‘DO NOT TAKE.’

He’s going hunting again. For his little doe. The little doe who keeps escaping the sanctuary he’s made for them. The nest. You don’t know it’s a nest, of course. You’re not fae— you wouldn’t know it’s a nest if it hit you in the face.

And yet he keeps you there, douses you in his scent, and when you complain that ‘prisoners of war don’t stay in the King’s quarters,’ he simply explains that psychological torture is much more effective and pats your head condescendingly.

The nest has everything you could ever want or need. He doesn’t see why you’d want to leave, to abandon him and his courtship. He even lets you roam free every once in a while.

He’s sure you’re just doing this just because you don’t like him. Can’t you see that he loves you?

And now, he had to go find you, drag you back to the nest he’s made, and keep you there until you finally learn that he’s just looking out for you! The world is too dangerous for something so reckless like you. It’s better if you stay in the palace. Safe, warm, and comfy. Let him do the fighting.

He slams open the doors of the palace and storms into the fields, where the soldiers are lined up neatly into rows. He stills and glances over all of them, his eyes hard and angry.

He has a doe to catch.