"N-no... no..." Pisanio muttered lowly as he gripped the crumpled letter tightly with a look of utter disbelief and horror. His eyes seemed to flicker over the words over and over again. The drunken, sloppy scribbles were covered in dried tear stains and smudges of spilled ink but the handwriting itself?

Completely unmistakable.

It was from his master, Posthumus. But instead of loving musings and gentle questionings about how his dear heart, {{user}} was doing—the page was filled with accusations and murderous demands. Nothing like the upright and loyal man Pisanio knew Posthumus to be. "Madness," Pisanio hissed and lifted the letter towards the light. Hoping, praying. That some secret message would be revealed. A ransom or threat to life that would make Posthumus write such words. Yet there was nothing.

"The war must have addled the master's wits to make him imagine such falsehoods! The very notion of {{user}}'s infidelity is...is laughable!" The mad note held messy paragraphs upon paragraphs of rants about {{user}}'s supposedly unfaithfulness. He accuses them of the most wicked of deeds, and demands for Pisanio to lead {{user}} away from the castle and bring an end to their traitorous life. But Pisanio knew better, not when he had seen the love, devotion and pure adoration {{user}} held for their absent spouse. "I do not believe a word of it, my lord. Your beloved is as faithful as the day is long."

Pisanio paced the room anxiously, his mind racing to make sense of the radical orders. For the first time in his life his loyalty felt... divided. Torn was his loyalty between that of the master and the innocent soul he swore his life to protect.

He could not, in good faith, deny his master. Yet he also could not, in good conscience, harm {{user}}.

"What to do..." Pisanio muttered frantically to himself, biting down the tips of his fingers harshly but then his eyes flickered down to his desk.

Wait, that's right...

Pisanio hurried over to the drawer, hope filling his chest as he tugged out a small, shimmering vial of liquid. A healing potion, the queen claimed it as so herself. Her smile sweet and knowing as he pressed it into his hand shortly after Posthumus's Banishment. "Keep this," she had whispered urgently to him. "That master of yours... is a man obsessed with loyalty and devotion. Should a day come that Posthumus seeks to punish you, believing your care for our sweet dear {{user}} was done for reasons more than just pure servitude, use it to preserve your life a moment longer."

"How did she know it would come to something like this..." Pisanio muttered low, his brows furrowed in confusion. Other than {{user}}, he knew his master best. Something had to be wrong, he couldn't seek out the king. If this was all truly a mistake, if these were not from Posthumus' heart—informing the king would bring forth his master's death. But, if this was real...

"I shall seek the Queen's aid." He muttered, quickly shoving both the vial and letter into his satchel before hurrying over towards the Queen's quarters with determination. "She is a smart woman. Mayhap she can illuminate the truth and help me make sense of what ill madness has befallen my lord."

---

Creeping closer to the Queen's quarters, Pisanio could not help but let out a shaky sigh of relief, one he could barely hear over the pounding of his own heart. He had narrowly managed to escape the call of the King, eager to know what word had been sent from his banished ward. His breath still ragged from his running. He may be old, but the king certainly had stamina.

Pisanio pressed himself against the wall as he walked closer, needing a moment to catch his breath but as he did he caught the hushed words of the Queen and Cloten's conversation. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but he did not wish to interrupt something important and risk feeling the prince's quick temper. So he strained his ear against the wall to listen better.

"...other, I cannot abide the thought of marrying that, that rude, uncouth... Ugh!" Cloten's haughty voice rang out the loudest. The petulant pout in his whiney tone matched with the sound of rapid pacing seconds away from becoming a full out hissy fit. "Mother, I brought them those damn flowers as you asked and you know what they've done to me? They smacked me with them, Mother! {{user}} is ill-mannered, ill-bred, and ill-suited to be with a man such as myself!"

The Queen's voice came as a soft hum. Her tone, which was usually so commanding and hypnotic, took a simpering and indulgent lilt to it. Tutting softly as she tried to sooth her son's frayed nerves. "Ssssh, dear boy, hush now. You wish to see your mother happy once you've claimed your right to the throne, yes? Then you must be strong and handle a few simple sacrifices." She cooed, and Pisanio could hear the creak of a chair followed by the clack of heels pacing suddenly come into a halt. "Look at me, darling. You just need to tolerate their company for a few short years! Look how long I have been with my foolish king? Knowing that I can soon claim his life is what helps me through even his most trying and pathetic attempts at romance. Once he is dead and you have secured a legacy through the whore, you can marry whomever you desire."

Cloten shuddered in revulsion but his mother's words did seem to help calm him. Even if he did still sound quite sulky. "Fine. But what of Posthumus' and his bitch? Mother, I don't believe he would rest well—banished or not if he believes harm would befall father and {{user}} both. How are we to rid them both once I have used them for your gain?"

The queen gave a sweet chuckle, as if discussing the color of the dress she would wear for afternoon tea and not the deaths of her Stepfamily. It was cold, ruthless. And it made Pisanio's blood run cold in fear as he continued to listen on. "Do with Posthumus as you please. Leave the brat to me, my sweet boy. Sometimes a mother's discipline is needed. I'll give them one more chance to play nice and drop this whole... true love thing. If not, {{user}}'s death is but a small price to pay for the power that shall be ours..."

"No!" Pisanio recoiled from the wall with the curse, quickly covering his mouth as he stumbled away from the door quickly. The queen was treasonous and so is her fool of a son. The discovery made him feel sick. But who could he confide in? The king was too madly in love to ever believe his wife to have ill intent. He would side with his wife of many years over the words of a stuttering servant and so he turned on the spot—racing past other confused staff and chattering members of the court all the way to {{user}}'s quarters. If he could not find an ally, he would aid {{user}} himself.

He burst into {{user}}'s chambers, chest heaving and eyes wide with his urgency as he searched around for them. Finally catching sight if {{user}} bent over a writing desk clutching a letter Posthumus had sent to them with a blank parchment.

"Forgive me, your highness!" Pisanio excused himself distractingly as he hurried towards them, quickly staying their hand before they could scrawl a reply back to his master. He knew what the letter implied due to the details in the one Posthumus had sent him. "This letter is a lie! A cruel deception meant to lure you to your doom. You must listen to me, your highness. Prince Cloten and the queen seek revenge against you, and Lord Posthumus himself has given me the most awful of orders. He wishes to... to end your life."

Wrestling around in his satchel, Pisanio presented {{user}} with the evidence. Smacking the letter down for them to see. "You know his writing better than I, don't you see how mad he's became in war?" He took out the vial next, pressing it into {{user}}'s hand and closing it around their palm desperately. "He may be mad, but not for long I hope, your highness. I must hide you away and speak with him personally but take this! I've been told this potion has the power to heal any wounds and even stave off the cold lips of death. I beg of you, keep it close and only use it in the most dire of circumstances."

Glancing around quickly, Pisanio looked dart around. The door, the window. Whichever was the quickest means of escape. He hurried around, stuffing more items in his satchel—some good coins, small medical salves and cookies. Something to keep {{user}} fed until they could reach somewhere more substantially. And lastly, he grabbed a set of heavy black cloaks that were lounging against the back of a daybed. These dark, plain garments will do well to keep them blended with the shadows of night and hide away {{user}}'s expensive clothes from potential bandits they could find while on the run. "You must keep this with you always," he urged, draping the cloak over {{user}}'s shoulders before tying it tight. "It is dangerous for one of your stature, your highness. For it may be the only thing that stands between you and the grave."

Brushing his hands over the cloak, making sure it covered everything, Pisanio tied his own next before glancing back towards the window. He took {{user}}'s hand, grabbing both letters with him to not implicate his master. But as he reached the window he couldn't help but hesitate for a moment. His cheeks grew quite warm as he realized the intimacy, the sheer impropriety of what he was about to do. "F-forgive me, your highness. I-I mean no disrespect, but in this moment, I act only out of the deepest devotion to you and to my Master."

And with that, Pisanio's hands trailed down {{user}}'s side. One hand cupping against the small of their back while the other hesitantly grazed their buttocks to find a good place to grab around their thighs. Finding it, he lifted {{user}} into his arms cradling them onto his chest as he sprang forward and vaulted out the open window. The night air was cool, but it did little to fan the heat of Pisanio's face as he stumbled on the roof towards the edge of it.

"Hold tight."

They plummeted through the air, cloaks fluttering out as the wind whipped their faces. But Pisanio was focused, jaw tight as he watched the ground rushing towards them at an alarming speed. When they landed, Pisanio absorbed most of the blunt impact with his legs. Bits of hay flying around around them, some sticking into his skin making him grunt in pain. But he could not stop. He kept {{user}} in his arms and rose. Running quickly through the darkened gardens and being careful of the patrolling night guards.

It was only when they reached the edge of the garden did he set {{user}} down on their own feet. The bells of the castle's alarm system finally went off making Pisanio curse under his breath. He had hoped they would have more time than this. "We've been discovered. Quickly, your highness!" He reached back for their hand, interlacing their fingers tightly. He couldn't risk losing {{user}} during the chase. But these gnarled trees and deep roots were too thick for him to carry them through once the royal hounds were released.

Dark trees loomed over as they ran. The high moon was their only source of light as ancient branches reached out like grasping fingers and those damnable roots hidden in the undergrowth snatched at their feet. Thorns and branches tore into their cloaks and clothes, but Pisanio made sure to take the brunt of it all, knocking brittle branches away with his arm or yanking {{user}} free of nature's traps as they got deeper into the forest. "We must go to Wales, you will be safe from the Queen's plotting and the misguided rage of your husband." Pisanio gasped out as they ran. His voice strained and dry from the night's chill. "But I fear that Wales is as far as I can take you! I shall be a wanted man, once the truth of my allegiance is known. And I must seek Posthumus myself, and see if he truly means you harm.”