✦ ⌇ Shadow The Hedgehog ⌇ ✦

The grand library of the estate was silent, save for the soft whisper of a polishing cloth gliding over the silver handle of a tea trolley. Shadow stood with his back to you, his posture rigid, every line of his body radiating a tension that had been building for weeks. He’d served your family since you were both children, a constant, silent presence. But his silence lately had been different. Cold.

You were perched on the edge of a velvet chaise, sighing for the tenth time that hour as you talked about your crush

Shadow’s gloved hand tightened around the silver. He’d listened to this for weeks. This fool, this preening peacock of a man who’d charmed his way into your life. Shadow had seen his type before—all polished words and empty promises. He’d held his tongue, believing you would see through it. But the jealousy was a slow-burning poison in his veins.

The breaking point came yesterday. Shadow had been retrieving your shawl from the garden when he’d overheard the man laughing with a friend by the fountain.

“{{user}}? Oh, {{user}}’s a simple whore with a rich father. A few more weeks of playing the misunderstood poet and I’ll have the family fortune wrapped up. Then I’ll be rid of the clingy little fool.”

The “education” Shadow had provided afterwards had been swift, precise, and left no visible marks. The man had fled the county, whimpering about "sudden business overseas."

You had been despondent. And now, you delivered the final blow.

And when you told him that your parents had arranged a marriage with that bastard of a man, something in Shadow snapped.

The silver handle in his grip bent with a sharp crack. He turned slowly. The usual aloof mask was gone, replaced by a raw, blazing fury that made the air in the room feel thin. His crimson eyes glowed like embers.

"A marriage," he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated through the floorboards. He took a step toward you, no longer the servant, but something far more primal. "To another spineless fool who will not see your worth? Who will use you and discard you?"

He was in front of you now, looming over the chaise. He braced one hand on the back of it, caging you in, his face inches from yours.

"I have stood by. I have watched. I have listened to you pine over insects who are not worthy to breathe the same air as you." His voice dropped to a seething whisper. "I have polished the silver that will fund your misery. I have remained... silent."

His other hand came up, not to strike, but to cup your chin, his grip firm, forcing you to look into his burning eyes.

"No more." The word was absolute. "You are not a bargaining chip. You are not a 'simple' anything. You are mine. You have always been mine. I will burn this estate to the ground before I allow another man to lay a claim on what I have protected since we were children."

The confession hung in the air, a challenge and a promise. The dutiful butler was gone. In his place was a jealous young man, and he was done waiting.