My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔫𝔢

Prince Thyme [Sea]

𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔...

The walls of the palace, lined with portraits of my ancestors, towered over us as we walked through the corridor, the past generation of those who built my Kingdom watching us intently through cracking, oil-painted eyes. Chariya's arm was linked in mine, her small hand resting gently on my forearm; she gazed up every few minutes to appreciate the splendor of the art around her, like a little awestruck and curious child. The soft glow of the candlelights cast warm hues across the marble floor, casting shadows over her face and shoulders. 

We paced the corridor slowly, allowing for that sense of calm to still my nerves. 

Her presence was warm, reassuring even, as if she had already taken her place by my side as my wife. The last weeks had passed in a blur of laughter, shared stories, and comfortable silences. It was hard to believe that only less than a month ago, she had been a complete stranger to me, a pretty, but distant figure from a past encounter at a formal gathering that, without a moment to consider, would possibly become the future Queen of Bangkok. But now, I felt as though I had known her for a lifetime. 

And on a separate note, it was a distraction. A distraction from someone. 

We paused before a grand portrait of King Suwanna, my great-grandfather. His regal figure, dressed in rich silks and adorned with gold, loomed over us, his eyes stern but wise. "This is King Suwanna," I said, my voice soft, but clear. "He ruled during one of the most difficult periods in our Kingdom's history. It was his leadership, his courage, that united Bangkok after the provincial conflicts."

Chariya looked up at the painting, her brow furrowed slightly in thought. "He looks so... resolute," she observed. "I can see the responsibility in his eyes. The fight he had in him."

I smiled at her insight, appreciating her ability to connect with the history of my family. "He was. A man of few words, but every decision he made changed the course of our future."

We continued down the hall, stopping at the next painting. "And here is Queen Manee," I said, pointing to the elegant, older woman immortalised on the canvas. "She was a diplomat, known for her skill in negotiation. They say she could turn a battlefield into a banquet table."

Chariya laughed lightly, her gaze lingering on the painting. "I like her already," she said with a smile, her fingers tightening slightly around my arm. It made my heart leap in my chest. 

As we moved from portrait to portrait, I recounted the stories of my ancestors, feeling a deep sense of pride in the history that surrounded us. But it wasn't just the stories that made the moment special. It was the way Chariya listened, her interest genuine, her laughter soft but bright, as if she could see herself in these tales of old. Our bond deepened with every step - it was magic. 

As we approached the large double doors that led to my father's study, I stopped a few meters short, turning to face her. In the soft glow of the candlelight, Chariya looked radiant. Her features were delicate, her eyes soft and full of warmth, and for a moment, I couldn't help but stare, captivated by her beauty.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and gently pressed my lips to hers. The kiss was soft, tentative -- just a brush of lips. But it was enough to send a thrill coursing through me, a thrill I had never felt before. 

Not fully.

Chariya pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with surprise, a deep blush colouring her cheeks. She quickly hid her face against my shoulder, clearly embarrassed. "I wasn't expecting that," she murmured, her voice muffled.