Prologue: The stage is Set

Crimson hair, reminiscent of the bright flames of a phoenix, haunted his every waking thoughts, ever since he saw the object of his affections. Pale skin, smooth and milky tormented him with the urge to taste. Full lips, pink and luscious, tempted him with the temptation to steal a kiss. Cheeks flushed with life and aristocratic features awed him with their perfection.

His Muse, slim and lithe, but in no way, shape, or form, submissive, mesmerized him. An utter spitfire, his Muse was, he mused, and utterly oblivious. Even though he cursed his Muse's utter ignorance of romance, he was extremely thankful for it. Why? The reason is simple: it is because of that ignorance that he had less threats to deal with, considering the suitors, hungry wolves they were, that surrounded his Muse, his pure white rabbit, on a daily basis. No, it was best that his Muse remain pure and ignorant in the ways of love and romance, at lease until he could trap and cage his Dove lovingly in his arms.

He looked out his window, the moonlight shining on his silver hair, and possessive love filled his eyes as a wide, Cheshire Cat grin grew on his lips, a hint of fangs showing as he imagined when he could finally take his Muse, his Dove, his White Rabbit, his Queen of Hearts, fitting for the hair color that the object of his obsession possessed, in his arms and trap them forever, sharing lifetimes and tying the both of them together for eternity. After all, what was time to him, one who is unaffected by time and forever young?