166: Premeditated; I knew our fates were intertwined

Nearly three years after the first time Drystan saw him, ignorant for a moment he allowed his heart to slip and allowed himself the mistake of momentary attraction to that man, the young Marquess was back in England.

This time not as a student of Oxford but as an artist who was commissioned to paint. This day would be the start of their destruction, Drystan had promised himself.

He sat behind his desk in the study of his largely empty mansion in the south of Durham, the borders of which touch the Dukedom of York.

Today was the day his plans were to commence, Marquess of Wales and a noble he was, but he could hardly afford any sort of delay, much less one caused by his own tardiness.

With a sigh, Drystan stood up from his chair and walked to the glass window behind him, hands folded on his back, the Marquess let out a quiet sigh as the man jumped down from above, heaven knew where he was hiding.