The Crown: RD 2 (Miraculous) (Unfinished)

Chapter 18: Flowers Don't Grow in Darkness

Hello everyone! Eclipse here with another chapter. So, in this chapter, a lot of stuff begins to happen - but you'll see that for yourself!

Enjoy!

King Hugo didn't last for long. He was thankful for this. The rightful king woke up this morning, just when the nightly blooms began to close.

Hugo, the rightful prince, was thankful to have the burden off his shoulders. The weight was more than he could ever lift, even with the support of people around him. He was still the king, but now that Adrien was up, people called him the prince.

No more "Your Majesties" from the staff. It sounded too formal with that, anyway. He wasn't royal. He was just the kid of the lucky girl who won the competition.

"Naideline," Hugo says. She glanced up.  He decided to continue. "I heard that you're departing. Did something come up?" 

Naideline sighed heavily. "Yeah. My mom got into the hospital," she says. Her usual flowery tone was covered in a layer of grime. He seemed to miss it.

"Oh," Hugo says. He raked the dusty flower petals from his throat. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "Not that I know of," she sputtered. Her back was hunched, and even the flowers enlaced in her hair drooped. Hair covered her eyes.

Hugo covered his eyes with his hair when he was avoiding someone. He had done it when his mother was scolding him for inviting a stranger into the palace when he was seven.

Flowers don't grow in the cold. She looked cold. He rests his jacket on her shoulders.

She looked up at him. The wind from the windows blew the hair out of her face.

"I have to go," she says. The hair looped behind her ears. She smiled. "Thank you for the coat."

Hugo nods. The dusty petals built up again and he stayed silent. She got into the carriage. He watched it in the distance. Flowers curled around the doorstep, the wind blowing the hair out of his eyes. 

"Coffee?"

Hugo turned around. The petals disintegrated. "Angela." He looked her up and down. "You take it, you seem exhausted," Hugo says.

"Are you-"

"Yes," he interrupted. "You made it anyway. Do not make it go to waste."

Angela's hair never went in her eyes, and she wore a contagious smile. She sipped from the glass cup. It was fragile, embroidered with tiny petals that blew in the same direction as the wind.

Small, fragile, like gold. Delicate and precious. Hugo looked at the glass, and then back up to her. Angela was the glass. She never shattered.

"I believe I have a meeting to attend to," Hugo says, the petals building back up in his throat. She nods, stirring the coffee with her finger. She licked off the excess as Hugo laughed airily.

"I'll see you," Hugo says. He walked off, Johnathan coming from the corner. The wind changed directions, and it blew into her eyes. "Johnathan," Angela says. It was her turn to rake the petals out from her throat.

He nodded. "I didn't expect you to be outside," He says. His hair was wiping in the wind. The wind's howling became more evident as they went silent.

Angela dropped the cup.

It shattered on the floor.

"Let me help you," Johnathan offered. She cautiously went down to pick up the shards. He put some into his pocket.

"Can I take them?" Angela asked.

He shook his head. "I'll take this. I'll take all the glass shards. Don't worry."