o hunter! my hunter! (yandere!prince!epel x gn!reader)

Part 3

The trip goes almost exactly as you'd imagined it to. All Epel does is swan about on his horse, ordering men around while you trudge behind, glaring at the cuffs you've been placed in.

You running away was too big of a risk to ignore, so you understand the need of the metal cuffs and chain leading them to Epel's hand—because you would've definitely  taken the chance to sprinting into the distance the second someone stopped watching you.

The only thing that happened that was only remotely  interesting was Epel's cloak (which he had, again, insisted on wearing even though the fabric was definitely not  made for comfort or versatility) getting caught on every damn branch he passed.

Even then he refused to take it off, even though it slowed the group down considerably. You'd watched everyone's faces go grim and stony each time a branch would tug on the back of it, dragging the small prince back by his neck until he was able to detangle himself and then repeat the process just a few seconds later.

When a stag, startled by the clumsy men attempting to follow and trap it, sprinted in front of Epel's horse, he'd tumbled back and fallen on his ass, looking dazed and in shock.

You have to bite back a smile. It's far from the worst thing that could've happened to him, but the brown streaking up and down the back of his pristine white pants is the only thing you can focus on as Epel orders the hunt to end.

You stare at the dirty fabric all the way back to the castle, wondering if it's possible to wash out. You hope it's not. 

Epel doesn't seem to want your company after the group returns, so you make your way back to your room to change out of your "outfit". Just like the others, it's discarded in a messy pile, and you're quick to slip into the day clothes, tightening the waist of the pants and shucking your boots on.

The kitchen is the first place you go to. You don't need anything to eat, you just want to talk to one of the servants there about Epel.

You seem to have caught the attention of a younger girl, who bustles up to you to ask if you need anything. She's thin and a bit unsteady on her feet with an apron that's at least two sizes too big tied around her waist and sleeves tied up with thin bands of string. Her hair has been messily pulled back into a bun that's already falling out; she must be overworked already,  you think, watching her sway in place as she carries a large stack of thick porcelain plates.

"No, I'm alright, but that you for asking," you say, offering to help her with the heavy plates in her arms instead.

"If you don't want anything, why are you here?" she asks, eyeing you. There's no malice in her voice, just curiosity, so you decide that indulging her a bit wouldn't hurt anyone.

"I get bored when I'm not acting like Epel's pet human. And besides, where's the harm in helping someone else? I guess I like to feel useful, too, so maybe this is just me being selfish," you say, watching her grin nervously as you set the plates into the sink.

"I've never heard of anyone speak of him so...so plainly," she says, and you shrug.