“Darling, please. No need to be so hostile.” Everett purred, the dagger held tightly over your neck straining for the kill against your firm grip. He let out a soft grunt when your foot pressed against his stomach, and when you threw a punch, proceeded to wrestle you against the floor.

“Why couldn't you be like the others and just– stay still?” He groaned, and locked you into a chokehold before letting go at the sharp knock of his back against your closet. At this point, he wished the noise would just alert the guards outside your room already. This was frankly embarrassing for a man like him. And the fact that he thought you were a delicate little thing– it wounded his larger than life ego.

But one thing led to another, and soon over the months you could count that he would be in your bed in the evenings, whispering sweet nothings as the two of you made the most of your time together. The exact opposite of his plans.

This whole affair wasn't good for him. Not at all. But it felt good. Great, even.

He couldn't delay your death forever, though. A few weeks ago you'd been nothing but a name. Now you were everything.

Everett scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand, other arm held stiffly under the pillows to secure your head.

He mulled over the options.

There weren’t many in his favor.