As you approach you see him toss a small object in the air before catching it again casually. He must have heard your footsteps because in one smooth motion he stands from his position on the bed. He looks at you inquisitively; you imagine it’s because you don’t know what to do with your face. You are overjoyed to see him, ecstatic that he is alright; and yet you are so angry with him, for what he has done.
You lock eyes with him and the powerful emotions there make your gaze dart down the ground, away from him. You sigh, exhaling slowly.
“Lady (y/n),” he says, his voice slithering around you like a snake. The instant analogy in your mind makes you smile slightly. “My lord,” you murmur, bowing your head out of habit. When you look back up he’s smirking, “I am your lord even in this gilded cage?” You raise your eyebrows and answer without thinking, “You will always be my lord.”