The Warrior of Avelyn

Ⅹ

"Cleo!"

Clara panicked upon hearing the urgency in the prince's voice, and barged into his room, afraid that someone had attacked him while she went to check on some preparations for the day's party.

"Your majesty?" she called out. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright!" he exclaimed loudly.

"What is it?"

"My shirt ripped!"

Clara never wanted to strangle him more than that moment.

"Oh for god's sake..." she muttered angrily. "I thought you were hurt!"

"Only my dignity." he grumbled, looking at the rip in his clothes.

"Oh please, you lost that long ago" Clara muttered quietly so he wouldn't hear her.

"Go get the seamstress."

"She's too busy right now." she responded, knowing how full her hands were.

"Do I look like I care?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "I need to fix this!"

"Don't you have like...a hundred other suits?"

"I've already worn them." he said like it was obvious, making Clara roll her eyes. "What, do you want to put Avelyn to shame?"

"By wearing a suit more than once?" she tried to show him how ridiculous he sounded.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, walking closer to her. "We have royalty visiting from other kingdoms, and they only expect the best from us."

"Alright, alright, I get it!" her eyes widened at how defensive he was being. "I'll fix it up."

"You know how to sew?" he furrowed his eyebrows. She nodded.

"My mother taught me when I was young." she tried her best to hide the way her voice cracked slightly at the mention of her mother, which thankfully went unnoticed by the prince.
She then walked over to a shelf in the corner of his room and pulled out a box that contained sewing tools. She brought it back to where the prince stood in front of his mirror and took out the needle and thread, preparing it. The prince watched as she bit her lip in focus as she put the thread through the needle, and then looked back at the rip revealing his abdomen.

She unbuttoned his shirt, averting her eyes so she would only look at the fabric in her hand, not noticing how stiff the prince had suddenly become. She flipped the fabric to the underside and began to sew it carefully, so that it wouldn't leave any marks. Victor's breath hitched in his throat every time her hand grazed his skin, and he found himself staring once more at the young maiden in front of him.

Soon enough, Clara finished stitching up his shirt back to perfection and patted it with a grin of accomplishment on her face, once again unaware of Victor's gaze.

"You're good to go." she smiled cheerfully. "Need anything else?"

He cleared his throat and tore away his gaze, shaking his head at her, letting out a breathless 'No'. 

"Shall I escort you to the banquet hall?" he raised an eyebrow at her question.

"You escort me?" he laughed dryly.  "I'm perfectly capable of going there by myself."

"Well it's my job to accompany you, you majesty; King's orders." she crossed her arms, looking up at him. The prince sighed and rolled his eyes, motioning for her to follow him. Clara smirked and walked beside him, gazing at the beautiful decorations of the hallways; various plants in every color and shape covered the walls and windows, basking in the sunlight.