*Horace*
I have experienced emotions like this before. They're as profound as an atmospheric effect, as if sea pressure were bubbling up my legs. I felt it when I was a boy, when my father was drunk… but rarely as a man.
But I feel it now.
The moment Susannah prances out of the room with her gingerbread, holding Layla’s hand, Rapuzel throws me a nervous glance, mutters something about the housekeeper, and flees. Clearly, she doesn’t want to be alone in a bedchamber with me.
This emotion is a blinding, inarticulate thing that reminds me of days when my father would topple from his stool by the fire and sprawl across the floor, so filled with whisky that he sloshed as he rolled.
Every time I look at Rapuzel, I feel a rush of possessiveness that feels as fundamental to my nature as bein
