𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝟎𝟑𝟒

a/n; first part may be a little repetitive but I promise it all pays off at the end of the chapter!! do vote and comment as it would greatly motivate me :) thank you for all the support so far!!

—

It was terrifying to age.

If there was a fear that stuck with you from a young age to now, it would be becoming older.

Unlike fears like spiders or cracks or the darkness, the fear of growing up was something that couldn't be outgrown. It stuck to you, like an obstinate insect bite that refused to be treated.

For the majority of your life, you had felt that time was picky. Sometimes, it moved too fast, and you would be eight, then nine. And yet at other times, like when you were ten and itching to go back to the palace, it would crawl by agonisingly slowly, like a drawn out, intentional method of torture. Time didn't let you choose the moments that you wanted long, or short. It shoved it in your mouth and you would be forced to accept what it wanted.

But obviously, it was the treasured moments that slipped by, and it was the worse moments that went at a snail's pace.

And now, time flew by.

Twenty days after the ball, a new season came. Your hair grew longer, and you now had to tie it in a short ponytail. You promised yourself that you would soon cut it, for it was bothersome to maintain, but your work kept you busy. Silas's hair, however, stayed long and silky. You were amused by it: by his tenacity to have long hair just because of the few words you had said once.

(Long hair is my type, Silas.) It seemed like the prince had taken the words to heart. Though, it was getting to the point where he would really have to trim it a little. It was cascading to his waist.

Thirty one days after the ball — a full month, you readied your heart to grow. You dedicated time to meditating (at first, you had deemed it as a myth; as something people made up so as to comfort themselves) — but meditating did work; your wounds grew less painful and your heart became calmer.

Two months after the ball, you started journaling again. Of course, your old journal was still kept with your mother, for her to read when her days grew lonely and weary, but you thought it was a good idea to start again. You passed it to Silas to read occasionally and he sometimes grumbled about how you had yet to accept his feelings, even though you had finally picked up an old hobby. You ruffled his hair, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and told him to be patient.

Order, you told yourself, order, above all. I need to be in a clean slate.

A clean slate...

Unfortunately, due to time constraints, you and Silas didn't have much free time. Even though you were practically glued to his side (as your job entailed) — gone were the days where you two could hang out in the gardens and waste time away, or indulge in leisure talk. The only things that remained were lingering touch and fleeting gazes, and Silas wasn't satisfied.