𝒜 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓈𝓎 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

Valentina: 6

"So, Your Majesty, it looks like we're going into this for the long haul." I sarcastically say.

"Yes, I suppose so. For the better of our kingdoms, I'm sure." Lukas nods, and he leads me through the Fjiotila palace gardens without hesitation on where he's going.

"Stop," I shake my head. "Don't do that."

Lukas looks at me with a blank look, the cold kind. His ocean eyes slitting from their usual almond shape.

"Whatever do you mean?" He says with a tick in his sharp jawline.

"You keep... I don't know, talking like that." I shake my right hand around with purpose. "Like you're some pompous, hoity toity... dunce!"

My exclamation seems to surprise him, and and as he peers over at me, his eyes widen.

"A hoity toity dunce?" He repeats, with a smug look on his face now. "That's a first."

"It really shouldn't be." I mutter, and I notice he turns the other way to cover up a smile.

It shouldn't, but it makes me almost smile.

But not quite.

I nod to the rose field that we approach.

"Are these your favourite?" I say.

"Why do you wonder?" He says with no question to it whatsoever. It's like he's making small talk to pass the time. It annoys me.

"I don't care, for your information." I snap, feeling my cheeks heat up at his bored expression. "I was just trying to make small talk as for all of the photographers watching. I, for one, want to make this work for my kingdom."

He looks taken aback, but also guilty.

"That was... I'm sorry-" He says regrettably, but I really don't want to hear of it.

"I don't want your sorry, I just want you to look like you're enjoying yourself. These endless flower gardens are starting to get on my nerves, and I'm not so sure how many yards I can walk in these bloody heels." My Canadian accent is clear along with the disdain in my voice. People don't think Canadian is an accent; oh, it is. "How long until this whole croquet thing is over?"

In attempt to bring our kingdoms together, we have started small by hosting a small brunch for the monarchies, dukes, and duchesses of kingdoms far and wide to show them our 'love', so we're to call it. A croquet game is being held in the middle of the nice gardens on the outside west end of the Fjiotilian palace, and there have been some photographers who work for journalists. We're currently pretending not to notice as they snap photos and try to make out our conversation.

But honestly, they're so dense. No one wouldn't notice them with their cameras flashing in our faces ten feet away from us.

"Listen, let's just keep the convo goin, alright? You can hate me when you're in private, get a voodoo doll or something, I couldn't care less. This is arguably the most outdated scheme in the history of royal marriages." I nod. "But if I'm going to be your beloved wife, I'll need to know the basics."

"Basics? Like what?" Lukas quirks up a brow.

"Like..." I scour my brain. "What is your favourite flower?"

He laughs.

"When will you ever need to know that?" He says incredulously.

"If I need to make something up on the spot in front of people, I'll need to know some things about you." I say. "Answer the damn question."

"Okay, I suppose that's fair." He nods. "I suppose I do like the roses best, as cliche as it is. There's something strikingly powerful about them, how they seem to capture everyone's attention no matter all the other beautiful flowers around."

"Hmm... I can understand that." I nod. "But my f-" 

I stop myself before going any further. We both know he doesn't give a damn, and I should stop falling for this fake exterior from the icy cold insides I know are lurking about.

"What were you going to say?" He tilts keeps his gaze on me, unwavering.

"Nothing." I shake my head. "We both know you couldn't care less about my opinions, so I figure I should save my breath."

Without ruining the perfect illusion we've set for the photographers, I curtsey, and walk back to the palace without missing a beat. 

Only when I get behind a perfectly sculpted hedge is when I take a small glance back at Lukas and realize his face is guilt ridden to the core. He looks ready to die in a hole, which could very likely jeopardize the photos, but he shakes it off and walks off also.

I snap out of what started as a glance but turned into a stare, and turn away before slapping my cheeks lightly to stop the ruddiness arising.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

"You eat a good lot." Lukas snorts as he approaches me in the bleachers they call the gallery because they're fancy. It just has velvet cushioning, besides that, it's just regular bleachers to watch the polo game from.

I raise my eyebrows to notify him that it was not the correct thing to say. Although my tightening dress knows he's right. Whatever, I'll exercise in the morning to put it off, I think as I lift a triangle sandwich up to my lips. No crust. What do they do when they cut them off?

"I didn't mean- it was just- gah." He sighs. "Never mind. It's a good thing. My sisters eat what's the equivalent of a rabbits diet. They're both so obsessed with keeping up their good looks. And I suppose they're allowed to be concerned, as everyone in the world knows and keeps tabs on them."

"I've had too many appearance induced self consciousness in my life, and I think I've just come to put it in the past now. Eat what I want, wear what I want, say what I want... you know I have no filter of all people." I roll my eyes, smirking slyly.

"Except around photographers." He winks, and it sends a wave of heat up my cheeks.

"Yeah, that's the exception. Anything to keep my people happy." I nod, and untuck a strand of hair from behind my ear so that the curtain will save me from his unembarrassed glances.

"Hey... I guess we're not close enough to ask, but what's the deal with your appearance confidence issues? Is it because of the..." He looks away for the first time in what's felt like forever, causing relief to flood through my body. I don't need him to stare at me like that; I can't read it and it's making me uneasy.

"Well, if we're not close enough to ask about favourite flowers, I don't think we're close enough for me to share the bane of my existence." I shake my head, and he looks down in guilt as I notice my coach approach us, panting from the climb to the top of the bleachers.

"Your Majesty, the guests beginning to make off. When do you desire to make your journey home?" He nods at Lukas in greetings as he wipes sweat off his brow with his handkerchief.

"Let us depart now, shall we?" I nod. "Thank you, King Lukas, it has been quite the pleasure. We shall meet again soon, I suppose?"

"Yes, I suppose we shall." He nods, gets up, and kisses my gloved hand gently before straightening again.

It feels like his kiss burned through my glove, and imprinted my hand forever. No hand washing will cleanse this memory away.

"Farewell, then." I nod, accepting the arm my coach offers me, and I watch my step as he escorts me down the bleacher steps, and next thing I know, in front of the carriage.

"Hold on!" 

I turn from my position of getting into the carriage, to see Lukas jogging towards me.

"Yes, Your Highness?" I nod, eager to get yet another interaction over with.

"I apologize for my earlier rudeness. I must know, what is your favourite flower?"