Love comes in many forms.
Speaking about it, imagining it, and melting at the mere prospect of it can leave you giddy with its richness.
But defining it, expressing or experiencing it - that's a different game.
Elijah - the heir to the throne of...
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"I will murder you."
The guard blinked repeatedly as if he had just retracted himself out of a hallucination and widened his eyes.
"Your majesty, I-"
"If I find out that you've been leading this investigation without any seriousness because of your low opinions on my suspicions, you won't live to report back to me."
Something that I always had control of in all my years of training, was knowingly slithering out of my hands.
"Leave. See to it that the inspection I required in the Hall of Thrones is being arranged without flaw."
The guard that had resembled the epitome of confidence and sturdiness seconds before, failed to replicate even a similar stance, staggering backwards while he shakily nodded and left the room.
It just couldn't be. We still hadn't obtained a single piece of evidence, connecting the escape of the female prisoner to one of the women living in the west wing of the lands.
We had thoroughly probed nearly all seven villages under our surveillance, some of which that weren't even part of the west side of the lands, and the last stage of the inquiry was to commence soon. The riskiest part of it.
Gathering all the women in one hall for a long face-to-face interrogation.
I put on my blazer, that covered my white shirt, an attire that was simple enough but still made the dark colour of it, a shining plain black, speak for the gravity of the situation.
My pointy shoes squeaked along the sparkling floors, as I approached the tall closed doors of the Hall of Thrones.
Then, I nearly squeaked.
Because, once I opened the doors, it was chaos.
There were chattering women everywhere, the high pitch of the feminine conversations bouncing across every corner of the walls, the mixture of the words being shared attacking my earbuds all at once.
Women of all ages were present, and the majority of them consisted of females falling into the young category.
As I walked towards Aaliyah who was surveying the hall with a clipboard in her hand and a facial expression even more rigid than the material she was holding, I overheard a couple of peculiar sentences.
"Why do you think we have been called in? They didn't tell me anything before ordering me to drop my frolicking in the markets! Mind them, I was extremely busy fooling around with the fishmonger."
"My husband is probably screaming his head off in the backyard, they forced us to exit our bedroom right before the buffoon exited the toilet. That constipation issue of his is becoming unbearable!"
"The prince, my goodness, he looks like an almond dripping with milk chocolate, though I think he would look much better inside my mouth."
