He's lost his sense of time. He doesn't bother counting anymore.

How pitiful. He thought someone was coming to save him, but it's been too long and slowly, his hope is slowly dwindling away.

The silence is deafening, the only noise that's ever made is his own breathing and the constant maddening, ear-piercing ring of his ears. It's a miracle how he hasn't gone insane. Moving around feels unbearable because of the chilly and uneven stone always grazing his skin like a carrot on a grater. Watching his helplessness is rather amusing, to me at least.

Tears slide down his cheek one by one. He still can't let go of his damn lover. She was supposed to have rescued or saved him by now. She must've been lying to his poor soul. He recalls his moments with her for, maybe the 10th time now? The things love can do to a man is baffling to me. Nonetheless he replays his favorite memory, Him and his lover on their forbidden little date. He recalls how the wind blew her brown hair with the leaves of the willow trees, her hand in his as they sat together by the river. Her lips, red and smiling wide and her blue eyes were brimming of life and love for him. It was all so...perfect. The sun was setting adding to the sweet fairytale that he had thought was brewing between them.

In all fairness the man's current predicament is his own fault. He just had to get involved with the princess, didn't he? blinded by so called 'love' and his naivete.

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No more waiting, or hesitating.

Sorrow and guilt have filled her heart and mind since his capture. Her steps were light and quiet, yet she was rushing down the halls with quicken breathing. She darted her gaze to the tall glass windows. Oh, how she loved that evening under the willow trees, beside the river. the longer. She remembered every detail, especially the way her lover had been admiring her, never taking his emerald eyes off her face as if nothing else more beautiful existed to him. He had listened to her rambling. She never got to ramble; princesses don't babble. They talk calmly and matter-of-factly. They aren't supposed to voice their opinions.

At long last she reached the old prison under the palace. The walls were made of dark, grey and unsmoothed stones unlike the palace, her steps echoing against her will. She had only a lamp to light her way.

She could barely make out his figure in the dark, frail, shivering and weak on the ground. The sight sent a lance of pain through her chest.

before she has even registered it, she was already unlocking the rusty cell door, it creaked open, the sound travelling down the prison hall. Her lover quickly jolted to face her; his eyes squinted shut as he winces in pain. She drops the lamp gently onto the floor, immediately throwing herself on the ground in his arms.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, my love." She cried. "I should come as soon as you were captured." She repeated numerous 'I'm sorry' as if no amount of them could ease the guilt in her heart.

"You're came for me, and that's all that matters to me." He croaked, voice hoarse.

She held his hand tight, and she wasn't ever going to let go, ever, again.