(Trying to be as active as possible before my schedule gets busier next week <3)

Tate’s insistence on her being a nobody was infuriating to Spencer. He didn’t think she would appreciate him physically shaking sense into her, but it was a tempting idea. At the very least though, she stayed. She listened. That was something Spencer had been grateful for. The tears he watched begin to fall from her eyes, he hoped, were ones that fostered a reaction he was hesitant to be hopeful for. He wished he could have been able to smile despite the moment and tell her the stew was sorely mediocre at best, but more than that, he was wishing she would give him the opportunity to bring her back to that place to prove it. To make another memory with her, a good one at that.

As Tate moved closer, Spencer was just as surprised by her slender arms wrapping around his waist as he was more relieved than he could have anticipated. One hand gently cradled the back of her head as the other was a light presence on the small of her back. He wasn’t sure what this hug meant to her, and he was scared to consider everything it meant to him. It would have been perfect to stay this way for a little longer, maybe forever if it were possible. At the first sign of her beginning to let him go, Spencer was reluctant but removed his hands from her and lowered his gaze to meet her conflicted expression.

The words that were a struggle to escape her lips were ones he took a few seconds to process. He could have convinced himself he heard that wrong if not for the way Tate was looking up at him. “I don’t understand-” he had begun to say before she explained that to be the reason behind her fleeing from the castle. It didn’t make any sense to him. Spencer didn’t think Tate had been lying beforehand when she told him his own father killed hers, the rage she harbored behind her eyes that he had witnessed was not something that could have been faked. But neither was this solemness to her gaze now. As he tried to piece broken pieces of the situation together, Spencer took the letter in his own hands and read it once. Twice. Thrice.

No matter how many times he read it, the letter did not gap any more sense of the predicament. Spencer had only disregarded the letter as he noted the shift in Tate’s demeanor as he looked at her, before turning to see what she had been looking at. A defensive stance is what Spencer had taken, not only for himself and how he had been trained to react to potential threats, but also because he had someone worth defending with him. Although he was more than displeased for Tate to put herself in front of him - thoughtful, but a blow to his ego. Watching the exchange carefully, Spencer decided he didn’t like her father. For lying to her. For making him indirectly believe his own father murdered him… for taking away something that would have framed his father as the monster Spencer saw him as. He didn’t feel better that the former King had no hand in an innocent death, it upset him.

Spencer’s gaze carefully studied the emergence of figures surrounding them, he knew well enough they were sorely outnumbered, but he was also grateful he hadn’t left Tate alone to navigate through this. She had been there in her own way for him, and he would like to think this was his opportunity to return the favor. The prince bit his tongue, at least pretending to play the part of a complacent guard for now, he figured it’s what would keep Tate safe in the immediate situation they were in now. Besides, he himself was a little curious about all of this. Glancing down at Tate to judge how well she was handling the situation, he felt helpless in being able to offer any immediate comfort aside from his jacket around her shoulders.

The mention of Rian spurred Spencer’s gaze to shift toward the direction of the castle. Of all the times his elder brother could be useful to him, he didn’t have to think hard to know how Rian would react to both Tate and the prince being missing. Rian reacted to things with subtle haste, which meant people would be sent to look in force, but instructed to do so without rousing suspicions or attention. “If this goes south, you know where to run,” Spencer had uttered in a low tone for only Tate to hear. Ideally, if things went in a way that was unforeseen and terrible, Spencer could at least give her the opportunity to run toward the castle. In this case, it would be the safer place to flee toward, because as much as Spencer hated it, she would be running to someone better prepared to shield her than he was right now. Spencer didn’t know what kind of position he was putting himself in as they went along with her father and this collection of people, or what Tate would be exposed to, but he had followed Tate this far. And he was willing to follow her blindly through this as well.

Remaining vigilant on the trek through the woodlands with strangers Spencer could hardly consider amicable, he did what he could to make a mental map. It was far from his first time venturing in the expanse of woodlands, albeit he was more conditioned to journeys on horseback, and the reliance on allies to be keen enough to consider what he did not. He had not missed what Tate had dropped as they walked either. Spencer even went so far as to carefully ensure it hadn’t been seen by any of the other entities with them either. What Tate’s handkerchief would accomplish was minimal to nothing in Spencer’s opinion but if it assured Tate of something hopeful there was no reason to do otherwise about it.

Once they had come upon the moderately suitable cabins for living, Spencer had studied and listened carefully to what Tate’s dad was divulging. Which wasn’t much at all. He would like to think there was much more to the picture that he couldn’t see yet, something motivating enough to abandon his daughter, assuming he cared for her as much as Tate cared for him. As Tate’s father suggested a private setting for them, Spencer took a tense step forward, only for that motion to not be as well received by their spectators. His jaw clenched as he remained in place, his gaze lingering on Tate until she was no longer in his line of sight. The entire situation was wildly enraging and it took a monumental amount of effort Spencer didn’t typically practice to remain outwardly cool and indifferent to it all.

Rian, as to be expected, had been made rather quickly aware of Tate’s absence. Spencer’s as well. To a degree he would not admit, Rian had suspected Tate would leave, or at least try. She wasn’t happy here and few unhappy creatures did nothing to resolve that feeling. The falcon promptly sitting on his gauntlet reminded him of the push and pull of freedom. Aero often disappeared for varying intervals of time when he was restless, and Rian was comfortable with this, knowing he would be back eventually. However, there was only so much of a comparison he could draw between his falcon and his wife. Tate was much more exposed and vulnerable to many elements outside of the castle, even if the threats from within might have finally pushed her away. While he didn’t want to say he was more informed on what was best for Tate, well, he supposed he did like to think he had a better grasp on the concept.

For the first few hours of their absence, Rian had just waited patiently, suspecting Spencer would look out for her and bring her back. Though the longer the pair were absent Rian had found himself grappling with feelings both complicated and foreign. Worry surmounted most of his feelings, but there were less desirable emotions tainting him with doubt - betrayal, most of all. While he convinced himself the possibility of Tate genuinely seeking to try and flee for good without so much as talking to him was slim, it was nonetheless an idea he had entertained. And he did not receive the feeling well in the slightest. Which only encouraged him to take a more measured approach in attempting to gauge the situation at hand.

“I trust you’ve never misplaced your training in your retirement, friend,” Rian ushered quietly, calmly to the bird whose head he stroked with his opposite hand. The brunet would rather not rouse suspicion and alarm by decreeing search groups or hounds… yet. If it became more prominent that the future queen’s whereabouts were unknown it would bring an instability he would rather avoid if possible. “Hunt,” Rian commanded, thrusting the hand covered in the gauntlet upward to aid Aero in his takeoff. The falcon had been most suitable for delivering messages, though Rian had spent a considerable amount of time training Aero how to retrieve and bring back - prey, more specifically. He had never used the falcon for more than the occasional retrieval with small prey, but he supposed dispatching the creature that could cover more ground in a faster span than he or dogs could might prove his efforts a worthwhile investment.

(Later than I wanted it to be but it's something <3)