Not once has Tim ever been more excited than he is now.

He looks at the envelope in his hands, the crisp, smooth edges of the paper. Hell — this wasnt even paper, it was parchment.

He could rave on and on about how much of an honor it is, but opening it was already enough; the elegant script written in india ink made him stifle a squeal, the sound rasping against his throat. "Oh, you beautiful, beautiful thing." He chuckles and reads the invite, his chest bursting with excitement.

Should he feel guilty? Maybe a little...slipping a quick mind-control spell into the royal adviser wasnt something a man as respected as him should do. And yet, when it came to gem as brilliant as you — he couldnt resist. Obsessed wasnt even enough to describe the depths of his infatuation with you.

And to think that this all came from a simple meet-cute at the last ball. It was laughable, really — but your quick wit, your charm —

Tim had to do a double take and check if he had been hit with a spell.

No matter, it'd be too late to check again.

Tim now stands in the ballroom, hair combed to perfection, garment pressed and carefully tailored to suit him. A glass sits in his confident yet loose hold, his eyes subtly trailing you as you moved across the ballroom, watching as you welcomed and chatted with guests.

He clears his throat and averts his gaze for a moment, trying to calm the jealousy that made his heart clench. He knew that he was being irrational — you've yet to properly court each other, but he was already acting as if you had. He scoffs at himself, knowing that he should get a grip — and that he should leave; this was wrong.

Tim looks up again, and for a moment, your eyes meet.