Damsel in Distress → D. Salvatore

𝓽𝔀𝓸

Lana's P.O.V

I stared out the window, watching my older sisters race around the gardens in utter laughter and enjoyment. I knew for a fact that I wore a blank feature as I did.

For 18 years--18 years I been locked away from outside. I never what the feeling of the cold air felt upon my skin, or the warmth touch of sunlight hit my skin.  

At this moment, I might lose my mind. 

The sound of the creaking door opening caused me to quickly turn to see my father stepping in with a bed tray in hand. I sighed and returned to watching the gardens. Knowing for a fact, my father knew that my hopes of going outside was decreasing and I wouldn't be shocked that he was glad it was. 

"I understand why you can't be out in the public?" he questioned. The same question he asks every morning for 18 years making it 6,570 times a day within 18 years.. or was it 6,571? 

"You, father care about my protective and only doing what is best for me" I repeated the same sentence I respond everyday. From me watching out the window, I could feel his movement of him nodding at my answer. The wooden flooring squeaked with his every movement and the feeling of his lips on my foreword was his way of saying 'I'm sorry' and he left without any other word. 

When I was at the age of 10 was he told me of the day of my birth: how disappointed he was when I was girl, telling me how his desire for a son vanished when he began to lose hope of having an heir, how his dark eyes met my green ones--saying the moment they met, he knew you were a special one--but now that I think of it, that special turned into a curse. 

𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 - 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒑.𝒐.𝒗

"Careful, my son" he mumbled inaudibly. The sovereign, Nicholas II stood at the end of the long hallway where the birthing process was located. At the moment, his spouse was with child and she just went into labor. 

When he arrived, forcing the large doors open. Screams were the first he heard with a mixture of the midwives scurrying, barking orders towards servants. 

The young sovereign desired for a son; the future leader to rule Russia. Already having three daughters and three painful birthing that pained him mentally from his spouse's wails. 

'𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡𝘩𝑠, 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑎' he thought sadly. 

He stare out the window--distracting himself by looking at the soft snowflakes falling. All he could do was watch the midwives and servants reflections in the window rush pass. 

He sighed and held his head within his palms. Watching the reflections of the midwives only made his pain worse and made her screams even louder. He blocked the rowdy wails by his quiet humming. He hummed the tone of the song his spouse sang to their three daughters. 

𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔

 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔