Magnus pulled his cloak tighter around him, the Paelsian wind whipping it around his knees furiously. It was dark, he was tired, had just gotten into a fight with the most infuriating girl on the planet, and he desperately needed a drink. He knew there was a tavern around here somewhere, what was it called again? The Purple Vine. The only tavern for miles where a man could drink away his troubles, whether those troubles be with a power hungry empress, a father on his deathbed, or a girl he wanted desperately. After walking for several minutes, he caught sight of a relatively small wooden structure. A sign dangled above the weather worn door, The Purple Vine, it read. Sighing, Magnus took a hold of the cool, metal door handle, pulling it open. He was greeted by the smell of Wine and sweat, a smell he was sure he had smelt hundreds of times. He glanced around the room, a bar was situated to his right, tables to his left, lanterns placed on every table, emitting an orange-brownish light around the room. He pulled the hood of his cloak down closer to his face. Not wanting to have to deal with pushing between the tables, he took a seat at the bar, the rickety bar chair made of an uncomfortable wood. Several bottles of wine adorned the shelves behind the bar. The bartender spotted him immediately and moved in front of him, blocking his view of the bottles. "What can I get you, sir?" The burly, brown haired, drunk, bartender asked. It didn't matter that Magnus could no longer see the wine bottles, he knew exactly what he wanted. "Agallon Vineyard," he grumbled. He hated to admit it, but the rebel's family wine was very good. The bartender nodded, reaching behind him to grab a purple bottle. Magnus placed a pile of coins on the table as the man set down the wine. The bartender picked up the coins, and moved to the next customer. In minutes he had gone through half the bottle, not caring much about the amount of wine he would consume that night. A second bottle gone, he found that the loud chatter of the room disturbed his self divulging. He hadn't cared much about the conversations, but one particular voice drew his attention immediately. "And what do you do, Evander Evera?" He knew that voice, he knew it all too well. He looked over his shoulder, catching sight of her immediately. Princess Cleiona Bellos sat at a table in the corner of the room, her back to the wall. He noticed that she wore the same pale blue dress as she had worn earlier, during their fight. It wasn't the dress nor Cleo that really caught his attention, it was the young man leaning against the chair next to the Princess. He was exceedingly handsome, with dark hair and light blue eyes. He couldn't care less about the man's looks, what he really cared about was the way he was looking at Cleo. And the way she was looking at him. A mischievous smile on her face, eyes shining with interest. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, he didn't like it at all. He wasn't thinking right in his drunken state, so his next move was not something he normally did. He got up from the bar stool and began navigating his way to the Princesses table. "I like admiring beautiful women," he heard the man answer. "Does that mean you like admiring men's wives too?" Magnus asked, standing directly behind the man. Evander Evera turned to look at him, his face showing not an ounce of shock. By now Magnus's hood had fallen off his head, revealing him to be the Prince of Blood to the Princesses admirer. The man smiled at him, "She's your wife?" he asked, motioning to Cleo. "Indeed she is. If I may ask, why are you flirting with her? Surely you know who she is." He asked, hearing the warning in his own voice. The man's smile didn't dim, not for a second. "Your wife is very beautiful, your highness. I just wanted to let her know." Magnus saw Cleo blush slightly, noticing for the first time the anger that spread across her face at his interruption. "Yes, well, she is very aware of her beauty." He said darkly. He watched as Cleo threw up her hands, picking up the bottle of Paelsian Wine in front of her when they landed back down on the table. He continued to watch as she got up from her chair, "To hell with you, Magnus," she said as she stormed angrily out of the tavern. He blinked several times, surprised by her outburst. It was very clear that she was drunk, perhaps as drunk as he was. Turning once again to Evera, he said, "Look what you did. Stay far away from my wife, if you dare look at her again I will have you executed personally by my father." It was unnecessary, he knew it, but it was worth the amusement he got from looking at the man's bewildered expression. He glared at him for a moment before too rushing out of the tavern. He looked around viciously for Cleo, before finally spotting her stumble quickly down the road. He noticed for the first time that several other wooden buildings stood along the road, how he had missed them he wasn't entirely sure. Cleo was several feet away, "Cleiona", he called out to her. She looked at him angrily over her shoulder. He had gained on her by this point, enough to be able to catch her when she stumbled over a rock. "Get away from me," she said, annoyance audible in her voice. "Fine," he said, removing his arms from her waist. After she had steadied herself, he asked the question that had been burning through his mind since the second he had seen her in the tavern. "Who was that? One of your new admirers? I'm sure Agallon would not be pleased to hear you have a new one." He said angrily. Something strange was gathering in his chest, something sour and evil, something that felt a whole lot like jealousy. Cleiona glared at him, her eyes dilated heavily. "That was no one. Frankly Magnus, I don't see why you care." His eyes widened, the wine swirling around in his mind. "I wouldn't care about you flirting with another man? Perhaps you have forgotten Princess, but you are married." He lowered himself to eye level with her, "Perhaps you've forgotten you're married to me." Cleo's angry expression grew to one of furry, her hand that held the bottle rising slightly before she threw it to the ground at his feet. He backed away, thankful that he was wearing pants. "How dare you-" he started before he was interrupted, "Careful Magnus, there's people watching. Hurt me and they'll think worse of you." She said with a sly smile. He grabbed her arm and ushered her into a dark space between the tavern and a bakery. "I would never hurt you. However it is true that there are people watching." He growled at her. She looked around at the alleyway, backing against the tavern wall. He placed his hands over her shoulders, on the wall behind her. Their faces growing uncomfortably close. "Tell me Princess, would you have let him take you to his bed?" He asked, his own fury building. He watched the rage build on her face before her hand collided with his cheek. She hit him with so much strength it stung from the contact. "You idiot! Of course I wouldn't have? Is that what you really think of me?" Her eyes ablaze with hurt and anger. How did she think he thought of her? "Of course not," he said, sighing. They looked into each other's eyes for several seconds, before he felt her hands frame his face. To his surprise, she kissed him passionately. Stupid drunk self, he thought. He should have stopped her, but he didn't. He didn't want to. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her hands found the ties at his tunic and began to undo them. Running his hands up her body, her own hands continued their desperate pulling at his tunic. She almost had them untied when they heard a sound come from the opening of the alleyway. Pulling away from her he scanned the area. Finding no one, he looked down at her and sighed. "Perhaps I'll have you all to myself one day, Princess."