"Wilbur began his tale. His tale that felt false, but with each passing hour became more of his reality. A girl with the blood of neither men nor wildlings. A fox with the blood of himself and a fairytale. A faceless man who wanted nothing more than his happily ever after to burn." ...
Not even his favorite chamomile tea could calm him anymore, only (Y/N) could. It wouldn't be much harm to have her, right? He could use some extra company in the lonely house. But what if the others want her as well? Britain won't allow that. --------------------------------- Approx length so far: 23,000 words I hope...