Novelette {Oneshots}

Royal Regret ✧ 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

𝚃𝚆𝚜: -

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌: Day 6 of the writing event. Mood board above, quote was "Just say you hate me."

I spent an hour writing a different approach and hated that one, so I started over with this...
It's a little strange, especially considering what I usually write, but I hope you like it anyway.
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"I love you."

The rival kingdom's prince only stares at me for a few seconds, dark eyes filled with nothing but horror. Through the haze though, I swear I spot something else, a hint of something less sinister that shines through for barely a second before it's swallowed by the darkness once more. George is left gaping at me, shaking his head furiously with a conflicted look that fails to follow through his refusal.

"Is it bad if my answer is 'I know'?" he asks quietly, and I feel the faintest smile tugging at my lips. It's not long before there's one on his too, beautifully bright yet full of dread. "Yeah, that's probably worse," I laugh awkwardly, hating the fact I was left with no choice but to admit it to him at last.

"Dream, you're fucking crazy."

We both know this is stupid. Crazy, really, and George makes sure to state as much, as if it isn't already obvious. It seemed so innocent to everyone, how princes of different kingdoms became childhood friends. Neither George nor I could care for formal banquets at the age of 12, so we resorted to talking purely out of boredom. Yet what started as talking because it was 'the only option' quickly became talking because it was our favourite option, and as the years went by, we quickly became inseparable.

That is, until our kingdoms declared war on each other two years ago.

It was crazy for us both to continue talking, but our stubborn, teenage selves refused to be torn apart by our parent's conflict. I convinced myself I was so adamant to see him because we were best friends, but I think a part of me always knew it was more than that.

That same part of me broke the day my father told me I was not to visit George any longer, but through a lot of servant bribery and secrecy, I slowly began to rebuild it. Sneaking out at midnight became a ritual, and every day it became harder, but deceiving my parents felt like a small price to pay as long as I had him.

Which all brought us to now. Now, when I'm staring at my childhood best friend, both of us barely months past 18 years old. Dressed in his kingdom's royal blue beneath the black cloak I lent him to disguise it, the clothes that would have him killed upon sight if anyone saw him here.

Yet there's no fear within those enchanting, dark eyes, and I'm sure even the stars above envy their beauty. It never made trying to ignore my feelings any easier for me, not when I've never been able to look at them with anything but adoration in my own.

He seems to know as much, has commented jokingly multiple times throughout the years about how much I stare at him. I'd normally made up some excuse to hide what I've always known as forbidden, but occasionally, I'd admit to it a little. Tell him it's because he's beautiful, something that always earnt me a scoff or a bitter 'don't lie to me', even if it was always accompanied by an unconvincing blush.

I thought I'd just embarrassed him; I'd never considered it's because he felt the same way about me.

Not until now.