Nightingale

Part Two || Chapter IV

Part Two

The Rise of Empress Nightingale

Stationed on a small podium, (Y/N) was forced to be tailored by the royal seamstress. The tailor toyed with the skirt of her wedding dress, sewing some of the final touches of the gown. The white gown upon her body was gorgeous, but not as heartwarming as the dress of her previous marriage. The gown felt smooth and cool against her skin, the trail flowed greatly behind her. The long sleeves were translucent with lace decorating her arms. The neckline of the dress dipped slightly towards her chest and the long skirt was decorated with layered ruffles and small bead patterns.

The tailor finally steps aside and presents the dress to (Y/N) in front of a mirror. "Hopefully, the dress is good enough for his highness," the tailor prays as she carefully adjusts (Y/N)'s veil.

"It's extraordinary," (Y/N) assures the woman.

The tailor gives the songstress a grateful smile, bowing before her, "Thank you."

The double doors part open and striding inside was the man (Y/N) had wished to avoid at all costs.

"Your majesty," the tailor bows before the emperor.

"You're dismissed," Ambrose ordered, barely even bothering to acknowledge her existence.

(Y/N) could only watch as the seamstress left. She had hoped that the woman would make the excuse of still trying to finish her dress. But now, she was stuck with Ambrose.

The imperial ruler took slow steps toward his fearful bride. "You look beautiful," Ambrose takes (Y/N)'s hand and leads her down the pedestal.

"Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" (Y/N) remarks.

"Mere superstition, my dear," Ambrose retorts.

"Don't call me that," (Y/N) sneers.

"What shall I call you then? Hm?" Ambrose teased as he folds the blusher of her wedding veil behind her head. Her (e/c) glared at him, yet it only made him smirk. "My nightingale? My sweetheart? My love? Or, better yet..." He inches towards her, his warm breath skims across her lips, "My empress?"

"You...!" (Y/N) wanted to shout.

"Yes, yes," Ambrose rolls his eyes, "Scoundrel, demon, monster, I've heard them all."

"And yet it seemed to never gone through your head," (Y/N) snaps.

"And it seemed to never gone through your head that you are mine," Ambrose's eyes narrowed, "No matter how hard you fight and no matter how hard to try to escape, you'll always be mine."

Suddenly, porcelain white teacups clinked as they were set on a nearby table. A maid holds a warm kettle in her hands, pouring its brew into the cups. A swirling golden glaze swirled the hues of the tea as milk and two sugar cubes were placed into (Y/N)'s cup.

(Y/N) had no idea she was there. Her face felt hot as she realized that the maid had to watch her squabble with the emperor.

"You are dismissed," the emperor bluntly states to the female servant.

The woman bows before leaving, "Your Majesties."

(Y/N)'s (e/c) orbs drift to the steam billowing from her cup. She didn't want to look at Ambrose, she feared crumbling before the powerful man.