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

Part 6

a/n: hi fellas, sorry this part took so long to shit out i had a horrible case of writer's block plus more stuff in my personal life that made updating hard

tw for mentions of violence, implied sex, and bias towards gender expression

You're not nervous. No, not at all. Not even a little bit. You're only fidgeting in your decorative outfit because you...yeah, you're nervous.

It's not hard to see why. You're sitting at Epel's feet in your fancy garb in what looks to be a throne room, although there are poorly hidden scuff marks on the floor that lead you to believe it might've been more of a common room, or perhaps even another dining hall. You're also about to meet the heir of the Schoenheit family, which is unnerving for an entirely different reason.

Apart from what you'd heard—courtesy of Epel—you've come to recognize that most people with titles like "heir" and "prince" are usually just massive asses. You're not expecting Schoenheit to be much different, even if you are hoping that he'll at least have less screws out of place than Epel does. Hopefully, all he'll do is ignore you and you can go back to figuring out the missing pieces of Epel's life in peace.

Not to mention, you're literally sitting right next to Epel's pristine white boots, kneeling while you listen to the concourse of people approach. It's a demeaning position, but you'd rather not have Schoenheit's first impression of you be you being held down by the guards while Epel bulldozes his way through another conversation.

While you try to focus, your last conversation with Epel keeps slipping into your mind. He truly does think that he's broken you down. His delusions have reached a point where reality simply doesn't occur to him anymore, and now you don't know whether or not it's going to make things easier or harder for you.

Furthermore, the way that his idea of "love" was so deeply fused with the concept of violence would have had you concerned if you really cared about the boy. You have no idea what sort of shit his mother pulled to have him unable to form healthy relationships (if she had anything to do with it at all), but you're not surprised that no one has ever gotten as close to him as you have—and you've only gotten so close because you're dead set on taking him down with you.

You're snatched back out of your thoughts by the sound of the doors swinging open, a moment of silence, then the crisp sonority of a pair of heels clicking over the polished floor. Looking up, you see a tall man walking through the entrance and you're suddenly struck by how regal  he looks.

Prince Vil Schoenheit, your mind fills in. For a moment, your mind pauses as you take in his appearance.

Epel had told you that Vil was vain, and now that you're finally seeing him in person, you can't say that you blame him. He's gorgeous. Everything down to the kohl lining his eyes is nothing short of perfect. The way his pale hair falls in graceful waves over his slim shoulders doesn't portray days of travel on uncomfortable roads. Not even his clothes show any sign of wrinkles, stains, or distress of any kind—they're perfectly pressed, wrapped around him like they were made just for him (which, knowing his status, they definitely were), and they're just the right amount of decorative that's enough to stand out without crossing the border into gaudy. Even his shoes, who's sharp heels only sport the barest specks of dirt, look delicate and refined. His face is a mask of absolute serenity, so carefully schooled to keep anything from surfacing that the only thing that gives his intent away is the intensity in the way his eyes are trained on Epel.