He knelt at her feet, his hands were about her waist, his grip strong, but not painful. Genevieve placed her hands upon his cheeks and listened as he spoke. The King's words only increased the worry knot growing in the pit of her stomach. He strained in his speech and Genevieve felt his struggle through his hands still upon her waist.<br/><br/>In a flury of movement that disturbed both Genevieve's gown and hair, King Motto's hands were gone and Genevieve, though tried her best not to, flinched ever so slightly. Her own hands fell away and her eyes widened-<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Run. Go. Get away from me.”</span><br/><br/>The King spoke, no growled at her: and the look in his eye? Genevieve reeled back and fell to the floor, her breath coming in short bursts. Genevieve stared for the merest fraction of a second before scrambling to her feet. She stumbled past the King grabbing at her gown to keep from tripping over it.<br/><br/>"Hector!" Vague memories from the forest prompted Genevieve to find the older man, but the castle was so large and she did not know her way around.<span style="font-style: italic"> This is all my fault..</span>She had pushed him to spend time with her, when he needed rest. She could see that he needed it.<span style="font-style: italic">How could I be so selfish?</span>"Hector!" A small prick of relief as she pushed through a set of doors and found the old man, alone.<br/><br/>"It's Motto. Something's wrong." The tears Genevieve managed to hold back came out in choked sobs as she took the man's arm. "He's in the foyer. I don't...don't know what to do." She could never forgive herself if Motto got hurt because of her.