𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓

𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊

3 years later...

"How long has she been out?" Phillip leaned on the pole.

"Since dawn," Cynthia sighed.

"Is she not tired?" Phillip looked at his watch.

"Her mind's astray," Cynthia tilted her head up. "She's been like this since yesterday afternoon."

"Something must've happened at the palace," Phillip glanced away into the distance.

"It could be because he is coming soon," Cynthia put down her embroidery.

"She's never been like this the other times," Phillip stroked his chin.

"Well the pressure of their marriage has been growing over the last few years," Cynthia stretched. "It's almost impossible to escape in conversation."

"True. But she probably heard the meeting last night then," Phillip ran a hand through his hair. "That's the only other thing I could think off."

"What was being said?" Cynthia straightened up.

.

.

.

"Those fiends are taking their sweet time," A baron yelled.

"The vampire kingdom must see this all as a joke," another spat.  A simple walk turned into eaves dropping. It's not like any of this wasn't things I've already heard of before.

The noble society had been insistent on me and Sirus is marriage. Much more insistent compared to an usual relationship. Some even began to doubt the relationship, to the point that I'd receive proposals of marriage and public declarations of love.

It didn't help that I'd see Sirus twice a year and thrice if  lucky. We'd walk out together, dance for a few songs and eat together. He'd then kiss my hand and disappear until the next event or year. Again and again. Rarely did we talk of each other's interests and passions. Our relationship was simply a beautiful empty shell, lacking love and passion.

Yet, society seemed to see us as a symbol of hope. A sign of the future, of vampires and humans properly accepting each other. A symbol of peace. 

Funny, how a simple relationship easily is placed on a pedestal. How all responsibilities are pushed onto us, to maintain peace, to maintain image. In fact, I alone have been holding it down in capital. Attending tea parties, picking the theme of our outfits, maintaining our image and shutting down rumours. I've done it all, whilst he gets to freely disappear to wherever he goes and appears for a single night every so often.

Why was I left with the burden? Why did I not get to skip the events? Why was it expected of me to do so? Why not him?  I pondered of my thoughts throughout the day.

"Your going to turn everyone insane if you hop on that horse again," Ophelia groaned.

"What else am I supposed to do then?" I rolled my eyes.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Journal it?  Anything but horse riding, I'm sick of hearing you race around." 

"Fine," I flopped back onto my bed. 

"Oh yeah a letter came for you," she tossed it over to me.

Raising my brow, I ripped the letter open to see the royal stamp. The king often hid the letter to avoid nosey people, by simplifying it.

"What is it?" She slid by my side.

"A letter from the king, an event?" I answered her as I skimmed the letter.

"Oh," Ophelia scrunched up her face. "But for what?" 

"Old bastard,"I shook my head.

"What?" She leaned on my shoulder.

"It's a ball but the hosts are "me" and "Sirus"," I explained. He must've noticed the complaints of the public.

"When is it?" Ophelia questioned.

"In a week," I answered.

"Is he mad! That's nearly not enough for every lady to get their dresses," Ophelia huffed. "I'll tell mother!" She dashed. This was my chance.