𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

01 | Adoration

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♡

Watch out, Y/n. The prince adores you.

Darkness nestled within the clouds and smoke billowed through the sky in great droves, muffling the once clear blue sky. There was torrential rain, and it made the ground slippery and wet, the grass on the fields drenched and muddy. Students ran back to campus with a mix of sounds: playful shrieks, sighs of exasperation, grumbles: some even flicking little water droplets at their friends. Others, the more skilled ones, used spells to protect their textbooks from the rain. The chime of the bell, loud and clear, could be heard across the school yard.

Lightning and rain detected. Temperature at 21 degrees. Students are required to head indoors.

Just around the corner, fire engulfed the back of the academy's storerooms — a patchwork of little sheds littered around the place — and a student cowered, his voice high pitched and drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the students. The noise cloaked the desperate cries of the student, and despite the god-given rain, the fire was not put out — a large barrier surrounded the cornered student.

And in front of the whimpering student, was the Crown Prince.

"Your Highness!" The student yelped, sweat dripping down his face. His knees knocked against each other, eventually giving out as he collapsed against the wall. The student was named Jonathan. His pupils moved rapidly, darting from side to side in frenzy — it was clear he was panicked — no, terrified for his own life. Jonathan's hands trembled and he swallowed bile down his throat — there was wad of sticky phlegm stuck in his gullet — and he found that words were hard to choke out.

"You don't have to do this, Your Highness..." He trailed off pathetically.

Jonathan prided himself on many things — the fact that he was a direct descendant of Count Aloysius, and the fact that he had gained entry to the most prestigious academy in the whole world, Golden Sierra. It named after the first Empress of the Sierra Empire. And thirdly, Jonathan prided himself on using other people for his own social standing. This time, he had targeted the third and youngest son of the L/n Duchy, Y/n L/n.

He's so lazy, Jonathan had thought angrily, he doesn't even deserve this spot. He slacks off constantly, he sleeps in class...he doesn't hand in assignments...!

It was with this burning prejudice that Jonathan had decided to attempt to make Y/n his little lackey — if Y/n was such a pushover, surely Jonathan could boss him around, right? Everything was going to plan: he had singled Y/n out, threatened him, commanded him—

Come to think of it, wasn't that his first mistake? Approaching Y/n...

"Please!" Jonathan continued to beg, coughs punctuating his words and cutting him off. He coughed a couple of times as heat traveled up his skin, stinging him. "Your Highness, I'll do anything—!"

The voice that met his pleas was silky and unbothered, and yet — yet — there was that thin, faint rage that sent shivers running up Jonathan's spine. This was the Crown Prince before him. The prince who had rumours surrounding him, constantly shrouding his true nature. There were some who saw him as a gentle, warm hearted prince who did no wrong — and others saw him as someone far more insidious: they said he was terrifying and cold hearted. They said he was a devil cloaked in sheep's skin — that he had apparently inherited his mother's madness.