All these years spent risking his life to save her, to save everyone, never complaining, never asking for anything in return, just picking up his sword and readying his magic to throw himself into danger... All these years holding her in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in the night, pressing kisses to her neck and jaw and assuring her that she was his one and only... All these scars from battle, these tired bones, these victories and losses...
For what?
The day was saved for good. The great evil that overshadowed their lands was gone, had been gone for months, slayed by his own hand, an end to his journey, a new beginning for them all.
And here their hero was, tossed in the dungeons, held in chains, all because one woman thanked him for saving her husband with a kiss on the cheek.
Avery had never seen his princess so angry, so betrayed as he had that day. He'd tried to explain to her that the woman was married, that it was thankfulness and thankfulness alone on her part, that he loves (loved?) her and her alone and always would, but that had only seemed to anger her more.
The air had grown cold as he was dragged away, accused of aiding the very forces he had done his best to defeat this entire time. She fed him, at least, though he preferred the days that she sent servants and guards to do the deed instead. There was always a catch when Vanessa was involved these days: a hundred assurances of his love for her with each needing to be just as heartfelt as the last, each bite of food accompanied with a kiss, a candlelit dinner when he couldn't even reach the seat... The only question that seemed to be allowed was when he would see her next. Asking when he would be let out only ended in a hungry, empty night or two.
There was something different about her--not just her mannerisms and frightening obsession with their love, but a sort of aura of wrongness that he couldn't quite describe, that seemed to be getting stronger by the day. Days that seemed to be getting colder and colder as of late. Anymore, he spends the days in his cell shivering, teeth chattering away as he wonders if (when) it'll be cold enough for frostbite or hypothermia to send in.
Some days he remembers to use his magic to keep himself warm. Some days he's so tired he can't even be bothered.
He just doesn't get it.
How did he end up like this? What was the point of it all?
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All these years spent risking his life to save her, to save everyone, never complaining, never asking for anything in return, just picking up his sword and readying his magic to throw himself into danger... All these years holding her in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in the night, pressing kisses to her neck and jaw and assuring her that she was his one and only... All these scars from battle, these tired bones, these victories and losses...
For what?
The day was saved for good. The great evil that overshadowed their lands was gone, had been gone for months, slayed by his own hand, an end to his journey, a new beginning for them all.
And here their hero was, tossed in the dungeons, held in chains, all because one woman thanked him for saving her husband with a kiss on the cheek.
Avery had never seen his princess so angry, so betrayed as he had that day. He'd tried to explain to her that the woman was married, that it was thankfulness and thankfulness alone on her part, that he loves (loved?) her and her alone and always would, but that had only seemed to anger her more.
The air had grown cold as he was dragged away, accused of aiding the very forces he had done his best to defeat this entire time. She fed him, at least, though he preferred the days that she sent servants and guards to do the deed instead. There was always a catch when Vanessa was involved these days: a hundred assurances of his love for her with each needing to be just as heartfelt as the last, each bite of food accompanied with a kiss, a candlelit dinner when he couldn't even reach the seat... The only question that seemed to be allowed was when he would see her next. Asking when he would be let out only ended in a hungry, empty night or two.
There was something different about her--not just her mannerisms and frightening obsession with their love, but a sort of aura of wrongness that he couldn't quite describe, that seemed to be getting stronger by the day. Days that seemed to be getting colder and colder as of late. Anymore, he spends the days in his cell shivering, teeth chattering away as he wonders if (when) it'll be cold enough for frostbite or hypothermia to send in.
Some days he remembers to use his magic to keep himself warm. Some days he's so tired he can't even be bothered.
He just doesn't get it.
How did he end up like this? What was the point of it all?