Fredrick Coventry had always gotten his way in life. He was born into wealth, with both looks and privilege. Women would swoon over him or even faint when he walked towards their direction. He would flash them a knowing smirk with one hand up, his head tilted ever so slightly to his left. "It was meant to be," they would chirp happily, their faces as red as ripe tomatoes as they struggled to regain their composure. That was part of the reason why he was caught off guard when 'Emmeline' snatched the golden goblet and ran off without giving him a second glance. It felt like she was in a greatly superior position; as if she was a queen and he was a mere peasant.
He did not like that feeling. Nor did he like it when King Leopold questioned him if he was in his right mind when he 'lent the goblet to a rather passionate artist in return for a marvellous painting of it'.
One may ask, "Why did he lie about what happened to the goblet?" Put simply, his ego did not allow him to tell the truth about whom the goblet had been taken by, even thought it would've been much more convenient for him.
That was why he went on an impossible journey to find 'Emmeline Birdwhistle', the girl who stole both his family heirloom and soon, his heart.
He made a hasty departure at night, telling his father that he is off to visit a sickly acquaintance. The darkness of the night engulfed him as he darted towards the familiar cliff, the sack of coins hanging over his shoulder rattling. "The peasant ran off in that direction." Turning his head, Prince Fredrick ran towards the town with a confident-perhaps, overconfident-grin.
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author's note;
I'm sorry for the short chapter ! I've been struggling with writer's block and this is all that I could come up with. Hopefully, I manage to write chapter three soon !
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metanoia ;
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