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...
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➵" ɪʟ ᴇɴ éᴛᴀɪᴛ ꜰɪᴇʀ, ᴍᴀɪꜱ ᴘᴏᴜʀQᴜᴏɪ ᴠᴏᴜꜱ ʀɪᴇᴢ?"
As morning arrived, Leon rolled over in his bed—his face pressed into his silk pillowcases, the sun casting its glow over his shirtless body, he groaned as he slowly stirred up.
Preparing for the day was probably his least favourite thing because he preferred just staying in bed and sleeping all day.
His father barged into his room, whilst Leon was dressing—Leon was startled, but his father quickly glanced away.
"Son, I need to talk to you." The king said, crossing his arms over his chest. Leon sighed, pulling his trousers up. "Can we talk when I'm not dressing, father?" Leon said with a grumble in his tone.
His father rolled his eyes. "No, will you hear what I need to say or not?"
Leon glanced down, grabbing a new pair of his white dress shirt—he put it on, it emphasized the tough biceps he had and was unbuttoned at the collarbone, showing the specs of his figure.
He stayed silent, so his father spoke anyway. "I wanted to..." he paused, clearing his throat. "Apologize."
Leon paused, glancing at his father with obvious surprise. That's new. Leon scoffed internally, he furrowed his eyebrows. Then he rolled the sleeves up only slightly as his father dropped his gaze to the ground. "For?" Leon asked, but he already knew what for.
"Well, on behalf of yelling at you," his father said, his expression turning sour as he looked at his son again. "but I do not apologize for what I said about the ball, I still infer that it was a bad decision, doing what you did."
Leon pressed his lips together, sighing—his father wasted time, getting his hopes up in an apology, and Leon, for a moment—believed that Unkow would consider Leon's wishes.
Of course not.
His father then left his room, leaving Leon in his thoughts—Leon clenched his fist, which was aberrant, considering he was typically phlegmatic.
His knuckles turned white, blue veins popping out with little effort, then he took a deep breath, recollected his thoughts, and calmed down.
What went through his head, was that damn woman. The one who warmed his heart, the only woman he thought about.
It wasn't that bad, having her calm him down without even being in her presence. He felt less... alone.
Whilst an archetypal day began for him, a lugubrious day commenced for the (brunette, blonde, etc.)
She sighed, wearing baggy brown trousers and a threadbare white shirt, she made her way downstairs with a wooden bucket and her maids' attire inside. Her stepmother couldn't help but insult her on her way out of the house.
The (brunette, blonde, etc.) made her way to the river, where the water streamed dearly—one of the few places that was Arcadian and nirvanic despite the hostility in her life, she would sit there and let the water run through her elegant fingers, close her eyes and listen to the singing of the birds.
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No time for rest, unfortunately. You thought, sighing heavily.
She then removed the articles of clothing out of the bucket, filled it with the clean water—sitting on the green grass, and brought it to the bank, a few autumn leaves entered which she removed and placed back into the stream of water.
She discarded the clothes into the bucket, kneading them to wash off the dirt—the warm wind blowing over her hair was ethereal. And dear god, that was just what she needed. A moment of tranquillity, respite and serenity. She could find those aspects even in chores because she was alone—in her thoughts.
He's so handsome... and caring, but—we'll never be a dyad, will we? Or perhaps, the heavens will reward me...
She looked up at the sky, smiling ever-so-slightly. Is it my time to be rewarded? That's why a pulchritudinous prince as such was sent to me?
Speaking of which, she wondered what he was doing. Was he eating a superb meal? Or perhaps, cleansing like her, rinsing his body, and his hair and displaying his masculinity to a mirror?
What a fortunate object... you thought.
The (brunette, blonde, etc.) then pressed her lips together meekly, wondering why her thoughts were so suddenly corrupted with a man she hardly knew.
A few minutes passed, and she had finished washing the dress—she pulled it out happily, eyeing her work with a satisfied huff.
The least she would have expected at this moment was a tap on her shoulder—she yelped, barely having time to react and see who it was before she was pushed into the river with a gasp.
The gasp turned into panic, her head barely hanging above the water when she heard the familiar giggles of her step-sisters as they stood upon the bank, scoundrelly waving as she was pushed by the current.
Water filled her mouth, her step-sisters disappearing out of sight as the river took her way down to a secluded area, where she continued to thrash her legs around beneath the water, her arms desperately flapping the water to keep afloat, the slaps and splashes filling the air.
"Help?! Help!" She called out, her voice strained because whenever she opened her mouth, water gushed into it and her throat swallowed, making her gag.
The (brunette, blonde, etc.) felt helpless and insulated, her body slowly giving up as it sunk into the water—her eyes open, revealing the blur of the water's ripples and the sky above in all its glory.
Am I going to die? Was your last thought, before your eyes fell shut.
To be continued! this chapter is so short, I'm so sorry. I have writer's block sb right now, it's like 950 words 😭 anyways, the next chapter will be good 😏
