Days had dragged on since Lucine's wedding, and the Crown Prince of Verenthia, Michael Aldrica, found himself suffocating under the monotony of his duties. He sat in his opulent office, his chair creaking as he spun it around to gaze out the window, his eyes drawn to the distant treetops swaying gently in the breeze. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft ticking of the clock on his desk.
Michael's thoughts were consumed by the silence that had fallen between him and Spencer. He had sent letters, three in total, filled with witty banter and clever observations, but the only response he had received was an unsettling lack of reply. The prince's mind was a maelstrom of emotions. He couldn't shake the feeling that Spencer was deliberately ignoring him, and the uncertainty was eating away at him.
As he sat there, lost in thought, Michael's fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the armrest of his chair. He was a prince, accustomed to command and control, and this feeling of being at the mercy of another's whims was foreign and disquieting. He let out a low growl of annoyance, his eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and concern. When would he hear from Spencer again?
Despite their mutual animosity, it was a peculiar irony that they found themselves in each other's company more often than not, a situation that seemed to defy their own animosity.
Michael spun his chair back around, his gaze drifting to the blank sheet of paper on the desk in front of him, where the only movement was the faint, rhythmic flicker of the lamp's light, casting an eerie glow over the stillness.
He had been contemplating the idea of writing another one when a sudden, startling sound came from his window. Michael's gaze snapped towards the noise, and his eyes widened in surprise as he met the curious gaze of a small bird, its beak clutching an envelope in its tiny mouth. A chuckle escaped him as he slowly opened the window.
"About time," Michael muttered to himself, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took the envelope from the bird's beak. He gently petted the bird's feathers, his fingers stroking its soft plumage, before the bird gave a cheerful chirp and took to the sky, vanishing into the evening air.
Michael opened the envelope, his eyes scanning the letter, his fingers tracing the words as he read the words. His expression remained neutral, but a hint of a smile played on his lips as he read the words. "It's only been a few days and you already miss me?" he muttered to himself, a tone of amusement in his voice. He read on, his eyes lingering on the words "Let's have a tea party like you wanted, just the two of us." The letter ended with a signature, and Michael's gaze paused on the name, his smile growing slightly wider.
Michael's smile twisted into a wry, mocking grin as he muttered, "idiot," under his breath. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement. "Spencer, you're something else," he said, still smiling. He stood up from his chair, the letter forgotten in his hand, and walked over to one of his bookshelves. With a hint of satisfaction, he placed the letter in a box marked "Spencer's Attempts at Being Charming" before closing the box and pushing it back onto the shelf.
