Leon was the upcoming king-and he was far from excited to say the least. Leon knew this would mean he'd be forced to choose a woman to marry, but he didn't believe in 'forced love.'
He wanted true love, and when he stumbles across a certain woman t...
A few days later, Leon sat at the dining table with his parents—his dad, King Unkow, seemed rather cross. His gaze was stuck on the professionally cooked breakfast on his plate, some pancakes that were fluffy and only the best: syrup covering them followed by some berries and other decor made by the castle's chefs.
He crossed his hands over the table, almost slamming his fists against it whilst Leon's mother, Queen Sara, ate in silence—yet she was genuinely aware of the underlying tension.
Without staring at Leon, King Unkow spoke. "Leon, when do you plan on explaining the ball?" He grumbled he was sick of his son's behaviour—rejecting every woman he was presented to as if he had a choice.
The kingdom wasn't about love, no... no, it was about power—wealth and ruling over the 'peasants.'
This was something Leon, despite being arrogant and stoic, disagreed with.
Leon sighed, lifting his gaze to his father. He may have been tough, but he was respectful. No matter how hostile his father was, he respected him—however, the feeling wasn't mutual.
"Father, I'm telling you... time after time, throwing these balls will not make up my mind." Leon insisted with a subtle tone of frustration, making his father eye him up and down on his seat across him.
"You think I care, boy? I don't. No, I truly don't... you want to spend your years looking for a missus you're truly in love with," the king paused, his fists clenching tightly. "then you're no son of mine."
The queen's eyes widened, she knew she couldn't interfere—but that was a bit far, right?
Her hand, soft and delicate, snaked to the king's calloused one, squeezing it. "Hun, calm down okay? I'm sure we can..." she paused, staring at Leon with a gloomy look as if telling him; 'I'm sorry.' She then turned her gaze back to her husband, who stared at her—his expression blank. "work this out without any anger... let's discuss it later and enjoy our breakfast as a family."
Unkow's eyes squinted, almost scoffing as he decided to push it further, ignoring his wife's attempt at a peaceful breakfast—which typically, was a rare occasion.
He turned back to face Leon, who sat on his seat silently, picking up a ripe raspberry with his fork and neatly eating it.
"Son, I don't accept this behaviour. It makes you a damn coward, you he-"
Midway through his sentence, he's cut off by Leon standing up, dropping his fork in utter frustration and taking a deep breath. "Enough, alright? I am sick, so incredibly sick... of having this useless conversation with you, I'm excusing myself." Leon grumbled, placing his handkerchief down and walking away.
Unkow stared in awe, turning to Sara. "You see what a brat we've raised? All your goddamn fault." Unkow exclaimed in a passive-aggressive manner, standing up and walking away also—leaving Sara at the table, her food barely eaten and most likely cold as she let out an exhausted sigh.
