He had only seen her in pictures.
He had seen her on the other end of a plasma screen, plotting and plannining. When he was two, he watched the televised celebration of her birth; a pale baby with eyes so brown that they were gold shining in sunlight. And a tuft of hair, much the same as the eyes except it was the color of dark chocolate. He had easily remembered that; dark chocolate was his favorite.
He saw her walk, talk, and grow. He had seen her speak in both war and peace. He felt like he knew her, but he didn't, or atleast, she felt like a friend. But, she was exact opposite. It had always been her family against his. Always.
He would watch her, enthralled not by the words she was speaking, but the way she spoke them. The way her body bounced with the rythm of her thundering syllables when she was delivering a message of empowerment, the way her hands danced when giving directions, the way her voice dripped with somber during a eulogy, and the way the words fluttered when she was happy; it was all enough to make his world stop. But it had always been her family against his.
With every program, she grew more mysterious, and he, in turn fell deeper, he knew not if it were love or obsession. Whatever it was, he wanted more.
It became difficult for him to focus durring an event featuring her. He would often find himself watching for an hour, but not remembering a single thing when the screen went black. She took up all of his attention, and he hated it. It had always been her family against his.
When he asked his father about it when he was eight, he snorted and said "The Savech's are just awful people, awful, awful..." And then the power behind his father's voice faded away.
When he was twelve, he asked again. He got a different response: "Son, never let anyone step on you without them paying for it. They'll use you as a step ladder and dig their boot into you on the way up... Them Savech's, we're making em' pay for it, an eye for an eye. Never forget that, son."
When he was sixteen, he persisted more as his infatuation with her filled him. The only response he received then was an order to straighten his tie.
When he was twenty, his obsession was out of control. And so he asked again, and his father sighed and patted the seat next to him: "Son, sit down. It's time we have a talk."
When he was twenty four, he did not ask. He gave a eulogy just like hers, and dripped the same somberness from his lips. When he was twenty four, he buried his father.
It had always been her family against his. Always.
He had only seen her in pictures, but now, here she was.
Daya Savech was courtseing in front of him, her golden dress was shimmering, and he was in awe. Leon Faye had only seen her in pictures.
And they did not do her justice.
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So, what do you think about Leon? This chapter was very descriptive and kinda an exposition dump, BUT the next will have a lot of dialogue! Thanks for reading! 💜
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His Little Heir
RomanceDaya is a twenty-two, engaged, and next in line for her kingdom's throne. While on top of the world, it all comes crashing down with the arrival of one man. When kingdoms clash, who will sit on the throne?
