𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 (𝕬 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖔𝖓 𝕷𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈)

Part 2

Remington's POV

Another day in my royal life, another night I dreamt of the little girl who saved my life when I fell off my horse and cut my arm. It was always the same dream: flashes of her wrapping a scarf on my wound, the scar on her eye that made her look damaged yet strong, and her hazel-green eyes looking into mine and her lips forming a smile that became embedded in my mind like the tattoos on my skin. I've never met another girl like her in my young life, and every time I courted a girl of royal status, my mind kept going back to her face and I'd end up disappointing them, so I stopped trying to date girls to avoid hurting their feelings.

I don't understand what was wrong with me. She was just a simple peasant girl who probably forgot about me and even if I saw her again, there was nothing I could do if we were from two different worlds. When I told my brothers about her, they assumed I made her up because the loss of blood made my brain delusional. I almost believed them, but then my mind went back to the scarf she used to stop the bleeding and to this day I still have it with me. I wear it as a reminder of why I'm still alive and as some kind of sign of hope, that maybe I'll see her again and thank her for keeping me alive all these years.

"Dreaming about your imaginary girlfriend again, Remington?", my pain-in-the-neck brother, Sebastian made fun of my daydreaming mood in the middle of the evening while our mother was out doing her business in the kingdom. "Shut the fuck up, Sea bass", I retorted, "At least I actually like my 'girlfriend' unlike you, soon-to-be-engaged-to-someone-I-don't-even-love." His stupid smile dropped and he rolled his eyes at me before declaring, "Just go check on Emerson. I need to go take care of something first."

Oh, boy. Emerson's been really feeling low nowadays, especially since that one snob asshole said he would amount to nothing since he's the last-born child and would never accomplish anything for his family. When no one was looking, I beat that guy to a puppy and threatened to finish him off if he ever said a word or came near Emerson again. He got the message, but it didn't help Em who's been feeling depressed ever since.

I got out of my bed and went into Emerson's room which was across the hall, since all of our rooms are close to each other. The door was closed, but not all the way, just by a crack. I opened it to see Emerson sitting on his bed working on his art, his eyes solely focused on his pencil and the paper. He didn't even look up to see me come in and then sit on the edge of his bed and watch him continue to draw both frantically and carefully for about a minute before finally saying something.

"Em, you okay?", he didn't acknowledge me, and then I tried again, "What you working on this time?" He actually answered me this time, "Le Mont-Saint-Michel", and his face seemed to relax a little. I didn't want to distract him too much from something that keeps him calm, but I just wanted to make sure he was okay. "Rem", he said to my surprise, "Yeah, Em?", I responded. He stopped working on his piece and looked up at me as he asked, "Do you ever think about...that girl? That saved your life?"

I may have blushed a little at his question and was honest, "Uh, well... Yeah, actually. Almost every day. Why?" He looked down at his paper and asked a question that terrified me, "What do you think would have happened if she wasn't there that day?" I thought about this question all the time, but I've never talked to anyone about it out loud. "I think...I wouldn't be here, with you and Seb and Mom. That's why I'm glad she came into my life, so I could stay in yours." He gave me a small smile and when back to work on his art with the smile still on his face. That made me sure he was okay and then I got up and patted his back before leaving his room and going back to mine.

As I laid back down on my bed, the girl's face popped up in my mind again and it was hard to get her out of it. What intrigued me most about her was her scar, not in a disturbing way, but like it had a story to tell. What had she gone through to have such a mark on her face that she would have to carry with her forever? Is it possible that it traumatized her in some way and it either made her more strong or more fragile? Why didn't I ever see her again after she left me with that smile on her face?

God, I don't understand why I was thinking about her more now than I usually did before. Maybe because I was much older and understood that she meant more to me now as more than a girl who saved me from bleeding out that day. I wondered what I would do if I ever saw her again this day. Would I thank her for what she did? What if she doesn't recognize me? Is it possible that all this time, that girl not only captured my attention, but also...my heart? I extinguished the candlelit lamp beside my bed and tried my best to sleep off my thoughts until I eventually drifted off into a deep slumber.