oak had drank too much.

in the mortal world, he could have easily been apprehended for drinking under the age of twenty one. but in the fae world it was expected of him, as the crowned heir, first in line to the throne. every revelry, every meeting he was expected to follow certain customs.

one of which was drinking. for every toast, every cup served, he was expected to take it.

throughout the night he’d steadily become more intoxicated, his dancing getting sloppier and his words getting more slurred. finally, he’d stumbled his way to his room, mouth stained gold from the wine and pupils blown wide.

to anyone who he spotted, he drunkenly requested you, slurring your name until he’d finally made it to his bedroom, collapsing onto the bed to wait.