Pitch black and fog.
No moon, no stars.
A frigid wind purrs,
rustling the leaves.
Nimble, measured footsteps descend
the spiral staircase—
barely touching the cold ground.
Eventually,
the staircase yawns
into the abyss
of the first story.
A shadow darts past
the castle's long and slender
glass windows.
There is no telling
whose shadow it is,
although there are hints
of red tresses,
and there are several
people with red tresses
in the fortress.
A short while passes.
A tall, white door
at the end of the corridor,
in a quiet lonesome wing,
opens and shuts
most gently and patiently.
White bed.
Dark wood.
A table, bare.
Basin, pitcher.
The lamp's bright glare.
A small, flaming brazier,
keeping the room warm, cozy.
Steam whispers on the wind.
A window, high and slightly ajar.
Unlike the grand, gilded halls
she usually walks.
A figure with curly,
golden hair and a silky,
black robe,
on his knee,
with his head lowered,
trembling ever so slightly.
He whispers,
"A pleasant evening,
Your Imperial Majesty.
Welcome home.
How are you feeling?
Are you weary
from the dragon campaign?
How is your body?
Does it hurt anywhere?
Also, please forgive me
for the state of my abode.
I did not expect...how may I be
of service to you at this hour?"
Kneeling before him,
her heart aches.
A thick, red finger
pulls back the hood
of her black cloak,
revealing red hair,
YOU ARE READING
Classified (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)
RomanceShe is undoubtedly one of the most memorable historical figures in her empire. During her time, she had the loveliest face, possessed the most impressive prowess in battle, donned the finest dresses, wore the most jewelry, garnered the most friends...
