If only everybody
Could see you through my eyes
We wouldn't have to worry
And leave it all behind
I know it isn't easy
But I think we need a brand new start

Exhausted every option
It's time to run away
Won't even pack a suitcase
I don't need anything
As long as you're beside me

When we are faced with danger
And eyes that stare at us in anger
Take my hand and don't you let it go now
We'll find our way out

I don't have all the answers
Not sure what we should do
But it doesn't really matter
I'm so in love with you

⚜️⚜️⚜️

WPOV
Track: Our Way Out, Nico Collins

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The Thirteenth of September, Nine Hours Past Noon...

My father is notably missing today aside from the brief—albeit embarrassing—encounter with him in front of Nico. It is a wonderful thing. I'm not sure what is keeping him preoccupied—seeing as he's a king, it could be something as inconsequential as the castle's napkin choice for some upcoming celebration...or something as significant as a war. Whatever it is, I hope it takes a very long time to organize.

I eat dinner alone. My father doesn't show. A relief, really.

I go to my final lesson of the day—an etiquette class. I breeze through it. I keep checking the doorway to see if my father will show up at any point—sometimes his violence interrupts my lessons—but he remains strangely absent. I fight a smile the entire lesson.

When I leave the lesson and my father still doesn't show, I start to think that maybe he's fallen ill. That would be wonderful—I might have been able to take over the crown immediately rather than waiting a month. Nico would be thrilled—I'd upheave the whole system on my first day, if I had the crown right now. Nico could stay in my office while I did it. I bet he'd finally speak freely with me, too.

And so as I am supposed to be heading to my room, finished for the night, I'm nearly giddy with excitement.

Except I don't really feel like going back to my room. What I really feel like doing is seeing if I can find Nico. I'll want to find out first if the king really is sick, though—I wouldn't want to get his hopes up too early. I switch course and head toward my father's bedroom—I won't go in, but I'll see if I can hear anything. Coughing or a nurse or something.

The hallways are long, but I reach my father's bedroom door in no time at all. It's guarded, but they pay me no mind.

"Is he in?" I ask them.

"No, your Highness," one responds, sounding a little bit bored but looking as professional as ever. "He's busy."

I raise my eyebrows. He's never been too busy for dinner before. "With what?"

"He is organizing a new servant staff, your Highness."

I tilt my head. New servants? That would take a fair amount of time to hire and prepare for, but why on Earth is he doing it? Our current staff is perfectly competent. Maybe he's shortening the nekos' hours by bringing in more hires? Or introducing new chores...?

"And...did he mention why?"

"It is not my place to question his Majesty," the guard says monotonously. "However, he mentioned briefly that he will be..." He hesitates—strange. "He will be...relieving...the neko staff of their duties."

I freeze.

He's firing them? All of a sudden? I mean, I guess it isn't sudden—he's always been quick to fire nekos who can't meet his impossible expectations. But all of them?

My heart beats hard. Nico.

My father knows I went to the ballroom with someone. If he found out I was out with a neko but didn't know who, would he fire the entire staff? How far would he go to punish me for this?

My stomach twists.

Because I know how far he would go, and we're fucked.

It takes me a moment to force out words because of the way the guilt knocks the breath out of my lungs, filling me up and drowning me in a series of regrets. I feel very much like I want to crawl into a hole and rot there—I know how hard Nico has worked to keep this job, and I completely destroyed all that effort. All the others, too—all of them punished because I could not simply follow instructions? I am a selfish idiot—I should have known this could only ever hurt him.

I try to come up with a way to keep as many of them in the castle as possible—maybe I could come up with my own project. If I could get my father to approve it—a daunting task, but that's a problem for another time—then maybe I could rehire all the nekos to complete it—

"Have the nekos already left the castle?" I ask abruptly, because I need to know if I have to go chase them all down or not. Maybe I could tell them all to come back after my coronation and they could be rehired if they'd like—

"Ah," the guard says. "Erm."

"How long ago did they leave?" I push. "Maybe I could catch up to them."

The guard looks wildly uncomfortable. "Your Highness, His Majesty has decided to...uh, well, the nekos will not be..."

I narrow my eyes. It's highly unusual for a guard to stammer and stutter like this. Generally, my father is very strict about not wasting his time. I guess it's a good thing they feel more comfortable around me?

"What did he decide to do?" I press. "What's going on?"

The guard winces, takes a moment to collect himself, and then breathes out slowly before saying very evenly, "The nekos have been sentenced to execution. They are staying in the dungeons overnight while they await their fate."

The words hit me like a cannonball to the chest. My ears start ringing, and the world seems to tilt on its axis, my body going cold from head to toe. I can't breathe—like all the air's been sucked out of the corridor, leaving me in this suffocating silence.

Nico. In the dungeons. Awaiting execution.

It's as though my heart drops into my stomach, and I feel sick, a tight knot of dread winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. My mind flashes back to every conversation we've had—his quiet determination, his fear of stepping out of line, his soft laughter when he thought no one was watching. That night when he quietly offered me food—the night he taught me how to knead dough—the ballroom—the care he puts into everything—every single night in that kitchen. All of it, everything, crushed under the weight of my decisions. I have killed him. I've killed all of them.

The guard continues speaking, but his voice is distant, drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. I don't need to hear the details. I already know. This is my father's message to me. I mean, it has to be. My selfishness—my need to break free from the suffocating chains my father's placed on me—has killed the one person who mattered to me in this godforsaken castle. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breath, but all I can see is Nico, his dark eyes amused as he bosses me around his kitchen, his hands steady despite the fear I know he hides so well. And now, because of me, he'll die, and it will be by my father's orders.

I. Can't. Breathe.

I have to get out of here.

My mind is sparking with anxiety. Maybe that's why I make one of the most rash decisions of my life. Or perhaps it is simply the realization that if I go back to my bedroom tonight without having done something, I will be skidding down the path to becoming my father—a ruthless and apathetic leader who is too afraid to step up when it matters.

I want to be brave.

I'm so scared.

My feet are almost moving on their own as I find the stairwell, and I descend.

The landings of the lower levels are dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on the cold, stone walls. The air grows heavier as I approach the final flight of stairs leading down to the dungeons. A chill seeps into my bones, trying to freeze me in place—dread curdles in my gut. Every step echoes, the soft tap of my boots sounding terrifyingly loud with the knowledge that I'm not supposed to be doing this. The scent of damp stone and rusting iron fills my nose. Shadows stretch long across the narrow passageway, and it feels like I'm descending into the maw of some great beast, its breath hot and suffocating, waiting to devour me whole.

Two guards stand at the entrance to the dungeons, and their eyes only briefly flick over to me, but mostly they seem unmoved by the sudden presence of a prince. They block the door, their spears crossed in front of them. They don't show any signs of moving out of the way as I approach.

I don't stop walking until I'm directly in front of them, my heart pounding in my throat. My voice is steady, though, when I speak—an old trick I've learned from years of watching my father wield his authority. And an old trick I've learned from having to make appearances directly after he scared me shitless, too—sometimes you have to sound confident and brave even as things crumble around you.

And today things are certainly crumbling around me.

"I'm here to inspect the prisoners," I say, putting on a charming smile as best as I can. "By the king's orders."

The guards exchange a glance, hesitant. "Your Highness," one of them starts, voice low, "we've been instructed—"

"I am aware of my father's instructions," I cut in, narrowing my eyes. "But you must have misheard. I was told to ensure the prisoners were secure—he does not trust anyone else with that duty with a case so...sensitive." I tilt my head slightly, softening my gaze just enough to make it clear I'm not here to argue. "Surely you wouldn't want to explain to the king why his son's inspection was delayed?"

My heart is beating so fast. I'm praying to every god I've ever heard of that they haven't heard the rumors of my father's violence—if they've heard, they'll see right through my bluff.

But they're still hesitating—meaning the rumor must not have spread to the military yet. Or at least not to the poor souls doing the night shift guarding the lowest castle level.

The guards shift, clearly uncomfortable. They've been taught to fear my father, and though I am not him, the weight of my title carries enough threat to make them reconsider. After a tense pause, they relent, the spears uncrossing with a scrape of metal. "Of course, Your Highness," the other guard mutters. "Go ahead."

Right. Good. I think my nerves are going to tear me apart, but good.

The heavy door groans as I push it open, and the smell hits me—damp, stale air, tinged with the unmistakable scent of every prisoner's fear. I guess I'm probably contributing to that, too—the anxiety is thick here, so thick I almost can't make it through the doors.

The dungeon is cramped, dimly lit by the occasional torch sputtering against the walls. The cells are packed with nekos, their eyes wide with exhaustion, despair, and panic. Some huddle together, while others sit with their backs pressed against the stone, defeated.

I move swiftly down the corridor, my heart racing as I search each face for Nico. They look at me with confusion, maybe even hope, but I can't let myself slow down. Not yet. I reach the end of the row, and with shaking hands, I use my skeleton key—only my father and I have one—to unlock the cell doors. The nekos begin to stumble out, uncertain and disoriented. There's no time for reassurances, no time to explain.

But as they pour out—and I hear the first cries of indignation from the guards making their rounds through the dungeons, and surprised shouts from the stairwell doors I came through—one awful truth crashes down on me like a hammer. I stop, staring into the last empty cell.

Nico isn't here.

He's gone.

My father must have figured it out. That it was him.

The world is spinning so badly now that I have to lean against the stone wall just to stay upright—I can never forgive myself for this. I should never have pressured him into leaving the kitchens with me. I am unworthy of the crown—a good king would never put someone at risk as I have done.

I want nothing more than to tear myself apart. If I had the option, I would have given up right then. Put myself in one of the cells and let my father execute me in place of the nekos—it's probably what he's been hoping for, anyway.

But then one of the nekos—someone I don't recognize, maybe someone who worked on one of the lower levels of the castle—grabs me by the sleeve. Careful not to touch me even in the chaos.

"Your Highness," she says. "You need to escape with us."

I don't know how she knows. Maybe the servants have been gossiping about my father's violence. I wouldn't be surprised—maybe Nico has even confessed to them what I look like every night in the kitchens.

"Is Nico already—" I choke out— "Is he—?"

She furrows her brow at me. "I don't know which one of us you're talking about, but no one has been killed yet. Once we all make it out of here, the only one at risk is you. Well, you and..." She turns her head to the side, trailing off nervously. She releases my sleeve. "Your Highness, I will not force you, your Highness—but you know as well as I do that you cannot stay here after this. He will not allow it."

My stomach twists. Nobody has been killed, but then where is Nico? Is he the other one she's worried is still at risk? Or maybe did I miss him somehow among the chaos? I don't think it's even possible for me to have missed him—I'd spot him from a mile away, even among a crowd.

I can't leave without him.

"I...I can't go yet," I say. "Maybe he's in the kitchens."

I push myself off the wall, ignoring her protests, and I join the surge of bodies pushing and fighting through the crowd to the stairs. The guards are trying to keep anyone from escaping, but the nekos outnumber them by a landslide, and turning into a cat is a quick way to get around human defenses. The guards shout furiously as cat and human bodies shove at them, slip by them, jump around and over them.

I get close enough to grab one guard's spear by the hard wooden rod, yanking it toward me and stealing the guard's balance as he curses and stumbles toward me. Before he can recover, I shove him toward the ground. Some of the nekos are working on knocking out the other guard, claws flashing as they trip him up, sending him crashing to the floor. The guard yells in pain, but before he can get back to his feet, a group of nekos leap on him, pinning his arms and legs with ruthless precision.

From the corner of my eye, I see more of the dungeon guards doing their rounds catching up to the chaos. Swords flash in the dim light, swinging dangerously close to the cats. But the nekos are quick and agile, their numbers overwhelming the guards. A well-timed kick sends one guard stumbling back into a wall where she cracks her head against the cold stone floor. She doesn't get back up—probably unconscious, but not for long.

I help a few of the nekos take out the other guards with spears. One of them lunges at me, but I duck low, driving my shoulder into his stomach and sending him sprawling. Another swings at me wildly, and I sidestep, grabbing his arm and twisting it until he yells in pain, the spear slipping from his grip. A quick shove and he's on the ground, out cold. I'm sweating and breathing hard, but I can't stop. There's too much at stake.

By the time the last of the guards are incapacitated, only a small fraction of the nekos remain—most have already scattered into the shadows of the dungeon halls. I have to trust they'll be able to escape on their own. My focus narrows. Nico. I need to find him.

I sprint through the dim, winding tunnels of the dungeon, the sound of my own footsteps echoing as I search for him. The chaos of the escape fades into silence as I climb a set of stone stairs that lead to the castle's main floor. My heart is pounding in my chest, each step somehow heavier than the last. I push open a door, slipping out of the dungeon's shadows into the flickering torchlight of the upper corridors.

I barely make it ten steps before I nearly crash into them—a pair of guards, each gripping Nico by the arms. His eyes are wide, panic written across his face as he struggles to breathe.

But he's alive. I have no idea why he wasn't with the others or why he's under arrest by the guards now, but all that's important is that he's alive. The relief is almost enough to bring me to my knees.

"Let him go," I order, striding toward them with the full authority of my title, trying to keep the relief off my face. The guards glance at each other, hesitant and a little suspicious. They haven't been informed yet of who is responsible for the escaped nekos, then. One of them narrows his eyes.

"We have reason to believe this neko was planning to free the prisoners," he informs me gruffly. "His Majesty's orders were clear. If this neko is caught not working, he should be treated with utmost suspicion—"

"I'll ensure that this neko faces a worthy punishment," I cut him off, my voice cold and formal, though my heart is racing. "Release him. Now."

The guards look uncertain, but they comply, shoving Nico roughly toward me. He stumbles, nearly falling before catching himself, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The moment they let go, I place a steadying hand on his arm, pulling him close as I turn on my heel and lead him quickly down the corridor and up the stairs. I can hear guards shouting—the noises echo up the stairwell. We can't talk here—we'll be caught. We need somewhere safe. I have an emergency bag and escape route in my bedroom—we just have to get there safely. I guide Nico up, up, up to the more glamorous floors of the castle, then down the hall. I can't hear many guards here, but I don't trust anyone here enough to speak freely until we're in the safety of my room.

There are two guards outside my bedroom door. Their spears go up when they see I'm with Nico. "Your Highness, we have orders from Your Majesty to report any attempt to bring guests into your room."

"This isn't a guest," I explain, trying to keep the authority in my voice as Nico is stiff and scared beside me. "This is a prisoner. Let me through."

The guards do not oblige.

"Fine," I say. "Kill me, then. I'm sure the king will love that option." And I walk directly toward their spears, which they quickly move aside in their shock and attempt to not murder the king's only heir. I use my body to shield Nico, and then we've slipped into my bedroom. I close the heavy door behind us.

And the tension between us shifts.

Nico begins talking immediately—a desperate move. I guess he figures he's broken so many rules up to this point that the speak-only-when-spoken-to thing is at the bottom of the list.

Nico's arms wrap around his middle as the words come tumbling out: "I'm so sorry—Your Highness, I know you wouldn't have wanted me to run but—"

"Nico—" I try to interrupt, but he's spiraling.

"His Majesty was going to kill us all—"

"Nico, listen—"

"I've broken so many rules, God, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Nico, I promise it's alright—"

"I know you don't want me to leave—"

"I just want—"

"But I have to go or he's going to kill me—"

"—you to be okay," I say, my voice softer now, my heart breaking at how terrified he is. For a moment, I debate whether it's alright to get closer, and when I take a step and find that he doesn't get worse or try to move away, I take that as a good sign. I stay close to him and tilt Nico's chin up gently, encouraging him to meet my eyes. His breath hitches, and I see his cheeks flush at the direct contact—not quite allowed. I feel the warmth of his skin under my fingers, and my own pulse quickens.

"Take a deep breath," I say quietly, my thumb brushing lightly against his jaw. "We're going to survive this. I'm not mad at you for running. I would never be mad at you for doing what it takes to survive, Nico. Besides—you're not the only one of us running tonight."

Nico's eyes widen, his breath still fast but more controlled now. "...What?"

I manage a strained smile. "Remember what my father said? 'If you can't fix yourself, you won't live to see your coronation.' Well, I'm pretty sure freeing the nekos from the dungeons falls under 'not fixing myself.' If I don't leave this castle, I'm dead too. I'm sorry, Nico—I know you were hoping my coronation might change things, and I was trying for that, but... it looks like my life's just been turned upside down."

Nico just stares and continues looking completely overwhelmed with this news. He opens his mouth to speak and then quickly closes it again.

"Luckily, I'm prepared." My voice is more steady than the rest of me. My heart races as I make my way across the room, tossing open the wardrobe with trembling hands. Behind the layers of fine clothing, I dig out my emergency bag. It's heavy—packed for a day I'd prayed would never come, yet knew deep down it would. Nico watches me, his chest still heaving.

I've got rope, too. Nico's eyes dart from the rope to the window as I approach it, and he seems to understand the plan without me having to say it. Perhaps our inconvenient communication methods these past few months are now to our advantage, then.

"Why do you have all this?" His voice is strained, barely above a whisper, as though he's afraid of the answer. I can't believe he's talking to me at all, to be honest. This is a massive improvement upon bossy glances towards various ingredients. (The circumstances could be better, though.)

I glance at him, a little surprised he even has to ask. "I feel like perhaps you already know the answer to that question. I had hoped it would just be a needless precaution, but with a father like mine... Well, no precaution is needless. Are you going to be okay climbing down the rope?"

His breath catches in his throat as I kneel at the window, tying a thick, sturdy rope around one of the bedposts. "You really thought you'd need this?"

"I didn't just think it," I mutter, double-checking the knot, my fingers fumbling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I knew it. I knew that one day—one wrong step—and my life would be in danger. There's only so long a person can last under conditions like these. I suppose I had started hoping recently that I was near the end of it, but maybe I should have known all along that it would only make things worse."

We're almost ready. Nico is frozen, watching me with wide eyes, every muscle in his body tense, as though he's waiting for some final catastrophe. I hold out a hand, my emergency bag slung over my shoulder. "Come on, Nico. We need to get out of here."

He hesitates for only a second before moving toward me.

His hand hovers an inch over mine. No glove.

I see him struggle with the decision for a brief moment, eyes flitting from my hand to his nervously.

He grabs my sleeve, and I try not to feel disappointed.

"We'll talk about that later," I say, and he rolls his eyes. I pull him close and position him in front of the open window.

But just as I turn to glance back at the room—bang!—the door slams open, and—

The king is my bedroom.

My father's face is bloodthirsty, his eyes wild as he sweeps into the room, his robes billowing like a stormcloud behind him. "I knew it!" he thunders, and I swear to God the Earth shakes and sways a little from the force of his voice. "I knew I'd find the two of you together!"

Nico's breath stops entirely, his body going rigid as he stares, wide-eyed, at the king. I position myself between them, feeling the tension coil tight in my chest.

Apollo points a shaking finger at Nico. "You think I'm blind? Leaving you out of the dungeons while the rest of your kind rots? It wasn't an oversight! I knew you'd run straight to my son—I knew you were conspiring! I should have had both of you executed years ago—this is blasphemy—!"

"Father—" I start, but his voice barrels over mine.

"You are a disgrace to the crown—an embarrassment to your entire country." His gaze flicks between us, seething. "I gave you so many chances, and you show gratitude by tainting our blood with a romance with a neko. You are both sentenced to death for disloyalty to the crown—for tainting the royal image—for treason."

The accusation hangs in the air, and for a split second, Nico flinches, stepping back as though the mere thought would seal both our fates. My mind races. We have to get out of here. The window—it's our only chance.

Apollo takes a step forward, poised to strike, but I'm already moving—I know his violence well enough to know when to get out of the fucking way.

"Now, Nico!" I shout, yanking him toward the window. Without hesitation, I grab the rope and push him out first, shoving him toward the ledge as Apollo lunges toward us.

Nico scrambles over the windowsill, gripping the rope for dear life as I follow suit, just in time for Apollo's fist to slam into the wall where I had stood seconds before. His screams echo in the chamber, raw with betrayal and fury, as I lower myself out the window and into the night air.

"Guards!" Apollo bellows, his voice reverberating against the stone walls.

I descend rapidly, heart hammering as my feet hit the ground with a soft thud. Nico is waiting for me at the bottom, his eyes wide and wild with fear, but I don't give us a moment to breathe. I grab his arm, pulling him into a sprint, the cool night air biting at our faces as we dash through the palace grounds.

We race through the cherry blossoms on the eastern side, their pale petals catching in the wind, swirling around us in a bizarre, dreamlike chaos. My lungs burn with every breath, but I can't stop. I glance back once—just once—and see the dark shadow of guards pouring from the castle, shouting in the distance.

"We have to make it over the wall," I pant, guiding Nico toward the farthest point, the trees looming just beyond. "Once we're past, we're safe in the woods."

Nico doesn't respond—he doesn't have to. His grip tightens on my sleeve as we near the security wall. With one final burst of strength, I hoist him up first, scrambling over after him, the adrenaline surging through me, pushing past the exhaustion.

We drop to the other side, the thick woods enveloping us.

And we don't stop running until the castle is nothing but a series of dark memories behind us. 

Word count: 4670

And the escape has commenced! I hope this version is alright to you :) Some of the other elements in the original escape scene will be used later so if there's something you were hoping to see that is now missing, it will probably come up later in the story!