THRONE'S HEIR ✧ ROYAL! DENMARK[✔]

[14]

A week passed by, but to Matthias, it was a grey, dull blur. 

"My lord. You have to eat something." 

Matthias glared up at one of the people that worked in the castle. 

"No. I'm not hungry." 

"But how are you going to run a kingdom on an empty stomach?" She asked. 

Matthias sighed and stood up, making his way to the balcony. The worker gave up and scurried out of the room to tend to other business. 

Matthias stared out to his kingdom. The shimmering waterways, the moonlit sky, the people happily walking and talking. Together. He clenched the balcony and gritted his teeth. Along the entire street, he could see couples walking and talking, whispering sweet nothings and kissing. 

The kingdom was finally happy. Berwald had dissolved his army, which was probably why Arthur was here. There would be no more threats from the neighboring Swedish kingdom, which Matthias was thankful for. But with his father dead, he had no choice but to take the throne. With the official coronation coming up soon, the pressure was now heavier than ever for Matthias to find a queen. 

"What would father do?" Matthias asked, staring up at the sky. The stars were twinkling brightly, and he wondered if [Name] was up there too. 

Ever since she had passed, Matthias hadn't eaten for a while. He absolutely forbid the press to talk about it, as he didn't want the kingdom thinking his queen died. Well... She was never really his queen. But she would have been. 

Matthias gently rolled a square-shaped thing around his pocket and sighed. He closed the balcony doors and left, getting ready for yet another sleepless night. 

___

[Name] opened your eyes and immediately saw white. White everything. 

"Where... Am I?" Her headache was gone, and she felt no pain. 

"WHY AM I WRAPPED IN A BATH TOWEL?!" She paled, sweatdropping. The girl stood up, and even the floor seemed bright white. Unwrapping the bath towel just a little bit, she saw a large scar on her navel-one that crossed the scar from the previous one. 

"I'm..."

"Yes. You are alive." Came a deep voice.

[Name] shrieked and turned bright red, wrapping the towel back around you. In front of her stood a very tall man with stormy grey eyes and spiky blonde hair. 

"Umm... King?" [Name] asked, eyes wide. This was Matthias's father. 

The man just gave a simple nod and walked off. [Name], confused, scurried off to follow him. 

"But If I'm alive, why are you here? No offense or anything, I just heard from some people in town that Berwald killed you!" 

"I could be in your mind, dear. There is no explanation as to why you are able to see me and talk to me right now. I could just be an illusion as far as you are concerned. It is true that right now, you are neither alive nor dead. You are just in a state of unconsciousness. It is your decision. Choose the path you want to take." The King said. 

[Name] cocked your head in confusion. Choose? 

The King swept his hand to the side and a blurry image appeared. As the image became more clear, [Name] realized it was Matthias. He stood over a balcony, looking miserable. There were bags under his eyes, his skin was pale, and he hadn't looked like he had been eating. 

"Is this.. Because of me?" The girl asked, heart aching. 

The King looked at [Name], and for once, gave a warm smile. It was surprising since he looked to be the cold type. 

"It is not directly because of you, my dear. My son is miserable because he truly loved you. You see, the women he met only cared about his social status and his wealth. Not to mention his looks, he gets them from me." The King winked, and she sweatdropped. "But you... You are different." 

"How?"

"I have to go." 

"B-But wait! I have so many questio-"

But he was gone. 

[Name] sighed and looked around. There was nothing. No sounds, no scents, just plain white. 

How do I get out of this state of unconsciousness? 

"Aha! I got it! If the King appeared just by me thinking of him..." 

She lifted the towel and closed your eyes, thinking of a knife. All of a sudden, she felt something sharp appear in her cloak and grinned with pride. 

Pulling out the knife, [Name] took a deep breath and traced the scar left by the illness, drawing blood in her path. The small, dark red droplets splattered to the floor, staining the white perfection, but she kept going, bearing the pain with a clenched fist.