You sweet, sinister little bird. How he adored you.

It creeped you out. You were the helper to the fairest king, a man so well versed in poisons and potions that he could kill with a single drop from his cauldron. You, the crow fae that always stood nearby, became a source of wonder for the kings huntsman.

You would go about assisting the king in whatever matters he needed, and Rook wouldn’t be too far away, observing your every move. The way your feathers would ruffle when you were irritated or how your pointed ears would twitch when pleased, simply divine.

When he received an order from the king to kill his younger brother that rivaled his beauty, the hunter was torn. The kings step-brother was a gentle young man with a gentle point of view. While he was hesitant, you were ready to eliminate the boy.

Your unwavering loyalty made him swoon.

“Petit Oiseau~!” He called, garnering your attention, his heavy French accent seeping into his speech, “Would you join me for a walk?” He asked politely, placing his hands on your shoulders from behind.