Stolen Heart (yandere! King x reader)

1. Echoes of Destiny

This year's fall is cold and bitter.

A cool breeze ruffled through the trees outside of town, blowing the last few red leaves away from the trees' weakening grasp. One of the leaves fluttered under the foot of a (hair-colored) girl. She watched as it fell down, helpless and dying as the frigid winds of winter bit away at its life, fragile as even the slightest breezes would send it flying.

She walked on an old path, kicking some of the rocks to see how far they chose to go. Most people from towns like this traveled by foot if they needed anything, very few owned carriages. It wasn't smart to drift too far away from the main roads; rumors spread about people being attacked by shadows when they traveled alone. The bandit would steal from carriages, nobles -- anyone with money, quite honestly. Most famously, the Thief even dared to steal collected taxes and fortunes of the wealthy. The shadowed figure had yet to be caught.

The bustle of the town could be heard a good distance beyond the walls. The voices acted as if they were happy so they could convince themselves to find hope. Most of the voices were illusions, desperate attempts to drown out the echoes of reality. Take, for example, the aged stone buildings along the edge of town. They crumbled to dust under the weight of cobwebs, providing no shelter from the rain. Yet, when one crossed them, peddlers began calling out their prices like nothing was wrong in the first place.

"This fish, it's the best fish around you see, is straight from the ocean. That's right, fully preserved, and only 4 pence!" The vendor then added, "4 pence without the King's tax. But, but! I swear! It's worth it! It's a steal!" The other peddlers followed similar patterns. They would shout out righteous claims to grab your attention only to pull away with mention of the King's tax.

It was horrifying, that the struggling merchants were the lucky ones. They suffered almost as much as their customers. Others who needed to eat worked long hours as wage slaves under the fat, lazy nobles. They had no choice if they wanted to live. The nobles taxed and overworked the people who worked under them to pay their taxes to the king. To catch a phantom-like thief, the king is starving the people directly. All for a thief. The girl didn't blame them all that much. Everyone has to do something to survive.

There were also echoes of the future, within the walls of the city. A harsh chill seeping into every surface told of a hungry winter to come. Propaganda is plastered on each surface. With tribute day arriving -- a cruel tax -- and winter coming, the thief is bound to show up in a noble's well-stocked, comfortable manor and grab all the things they can, whether it be food, drink, coal -- anything, anything at all.

It was often wondered if the nobles could keep a straight face when saying that taxes were the price to pay for safety when no invader would strike as hard a blow as the king.

The tavern was the only business that was consistently afloat, thankfully. The owner was an altruistic man who had grand ideas and connections but was too poor to not be able to do much on his own. What he could do, he did. What he could give, he gave. Bless his soul.

You adjusted the bag on your shoulder before walking inside the tavern. It was pretty busy for the afternoon, but since the town wasn't too far off from the next tribute day, you could sympathize with the grim faces that sunk deeper into a bottle. One face seemed to brighten from behind the counter when he saw you.

"You got a visitor." With a smile, the bartender waited for you to approach the table. He cleaned a glass as he looked you over.

"Another shipment? You've been working overtime lately, haven't you? What would we do without you?" You let out a quiet laugh as you looked at the bulletin on the wall. Most of the job openings had been torn down already, some random guards had left writing on the wall for 'encouragement', but the thing that most interested you were the wanted posters.