witch of the forest. ‎ ‎oh, how he begs to be taken by you. lured by you. to be fooled by you. compromised by you—he would gladly plant a poisoned tree for you. sabotage the people loathing you for you — set the kingdom if it meant keeping you warm. because that is how it always had to end, right? ‎ ‎and if he can't have you then no one can. ‎ ‎he was a man who poisons, who lies, but you are the apple that had fallen right to his lap from the tree he was never meant to touch. and he, stupid and starving, bit into you. again, and again. ‎ ‎don't you know? ‎ ‎you never knew. ‎ ‎look at me. look at me. ‎ ‎why can't you look at him? ‎ ‎his eyes burns as he closes the distance separating us—his every step measured, deliberate. his hands reaching for yours but you wouldn't commit and surrender, wouldn't accept him—his eyes searches yours but not in them are his, you're not his, and yet you've taken him, made him believe that the us, could've been. "you told me to bite the apple— i did." ‎ ‎he pauses, his gaze not once wavered, his breath mingling with yours, speaking loud of his true color, his obsession. "for you." ‎ ‎and god help him for he had sinned, for he had surrendered his sanity for selfish desires. ‎ ‎"so take me," he blurted in between breaths, not looking away "take me."