ILLICIT AFFAIR | mileven

four

THREE YEARS AGO
ages — seventeen and nineteen.

it was late at night, she didn't know how late it was but she knew that most people in the palace were deep in their slumber already.

she probably should be too. she should be in her bed, wrapped under her covers while waiting for the sun to rise and serve the royal family for yet another day.

she should.. but she isn't. she knows that she is at a place where she definitely shouldn't be at.

her and prince michael were sitting in his chamber in secrecy. they weren't doing anything wrong by any means — they were simply meeting up to spend time together and talk.

which is pretty unbelievable because how does the one and only prince of hawkins find her presence amusing?

but in that one year in which she got to work for him, she repeatedly noticed now gentle he is - how nice and welcoming he is.

he initiated their little, nightly meet-up's — to have one part of the day which belongs to them and no one else could interrupt. which gives them room to be themselves and no one else.

there was no power imbalance of being a prince and a maid, there was no interruption from other servants, there was no one watching.

it was just them.

"i've been thinking." he said and snapped her out of her momentary haze, "we're friends, right? and i think it would presumably be better if we dropped the formality."

her eyebrows twitched a little, he still looked deep in thought — as if there was more to say but he didn't know how to bring it out.

he hesitantly reached forward to grasp her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles gently over and over again.

"when it's just the two of us, there is no 'prince michael', okay?"

she felt her pulse fluttering against her neck, it was so rapid that hot-blood was rushing to the tips of her ears.

"of course, your majesty." her eyes widened, "i mean, prin—" she winced, "michael."

he let a throaty laugh out and she came to adore that sound — the sound of his voice, the sound of his laugh.

"we'll eventually get there, eleanor." he grasped her hand a little tighter, tilting his head cautiously to the side. "or would it be okay if i called you.. el?"

"of course.." she halted to not let any formality slip out of her tongue, "michael."

he shook his head, never letting go of her hands even once. "you can give me a nickname, too. it would be nice if you could call me mike."

her eyes widened. "no, you — you're the prince."

he lazily shrugged. "i'm your friend."

one of her eyebrows quirked up. "who happens to be the prince."

he laughed again and her stomach felt light all of a sudden. was there a way to catch the way he laughs and hide it in a treasured bottle?