His Little Heir

For Real This Time

     Her fingers brushed against the keyboard seamlessly with a speed that boasted of practice and familiarity as old as time. It's not that he wasn't familiar with computers, no, Leon remembered those long nights in Bertha's living room learning how to type all too well, and for a few years he could almost match Daya's speed.

     He hadn't even hit puberty then. His chubby, rosy cheeks would part to reveal a smile that he wouldn't grow into for another five years when he finished typing a magazine article about ring ball or a frothy tea recipe that Bertha had placed in front of him to copy. They would drink hot coco together after his success in the colder months, his then tiny hands wrapped tightly around the steaming mug, but they wouldn't be that tiny for long.

      Leon grew up. His shoes had to be replaced every six months, his pants never seemed to meet his ankles, and then his mittens seemed to pop off at the littlest insistance. He shrugged it off then, or allowed himself to until he sat in front of a computer's blank page, his fingers struggling not to intercept their non designated keys.

      He pulled himself away from the memory to find her eyes fixed upon him filled with either worry or excitement that he couldn't discern.

     "Ah, sorry, did you say something? I kinda zoned out." He pulled on the back of his neck with sudden guilt.

     Daya pressed her hand up against her chin, "I asked you how you wanted to go about this. I have a few ideas, but they're your people. You know them better."

     "Don't say that. They're yours too."

     "Not to pour salt in any wounds here, but I'm not your wife. I'm an outsider, or at least to them anyway."

     Leon furrowed his brow and looked at her, "I'm sorry, but pour salt?! Pour salt?!"

     Daya took a bite of her muffin and tapped her cheek as if to say 'I'm chewing' then turned back to the monitor. Though, in that moment, he could swear that she watched him out of the side of her eye, but never would he be able to identify the reason behind that subtle stare. Her eyes always flitted around the room while she was working as if they could capture each unique thought that crossed her mind. They always wavered; yet, never long enough to stow away the vision forming behind. So why was she watching him now?

     "What's wrong with pour salt?" She didn't look up as she double clicked on a file.

      He raised an eyebrow at Daya's nonchalant manner, "It's like saying you put jelly on your biscuit instead of jam."

     "What's the difference?"

    "What's the- What's the difference?! Are you hearing yourself right now?!"

      A smug look danced across her face so gently that if he hadn't known her, he would have missed it entirely before being met with its full impact. The slight shift of her gaze, the parting and slight pucker of her lips, and then finally the soft crashing of her confident smile against her words.

      "Yeah, but it's pretty difficult over your insistence to be annoying, don't you think?" She stared at him with a playful glimmer in her eye as she took another bite of her muffin.

     "Me?! Annoying? You've got the wrong guy! I'm just trying to lighten the mood here."

     "Okay, well lighten it."

     Daya turned the monitor towards him with a so-so look. Her smile had faded, but not the twinkle in her eye behind it; he stared at it waiting for it to flicker, or go out in such a speed that the sun would die itself. It never fell.

      One look at the monitor, though, sent something else plummeting.

Dear Daya Savech-Christopher-Faye
We've Lost Track *FC News*

Daddy Issues! Don Savech Flees Fashad in Light of Backlash *The Royal Report*

Princess or Prostitute? We're Confused *Just In Programming*

They're Murderers, but What is She? *Grand Scheme*

     "Those are just some of the headlines," The sound of her voice jerked him away from the screen, "I'll spare you from reading the articles, but I've highlighted some key points that we can- What?"

     Leon couldn't do anything but stare: stare at her unwavering jaw set in a line, stare at her eyes lit wide even in the presence of the darkness in front of her, and stare down at the screen struggling to imagine what type of person would call her a prostitute and be dead to the world. Daya, the same Daya still too nervous to clasp her hand in his and linger there for too long, the same Daya who stutters at the thought of sleeping in his arms, and the same Daya who tortures him with her growing distance that he begrudgingly understands- a prostitute? How could anyone look at her soft face and see something so harsh?

     "They called you a wh*re, Daya, how are you-"

      "You get used to it." She sighed and pushed a stray hair away from her face, "It's nothing new."

     "But-"

      "You think it's any different from when I first got here, from the wedding?! If this is new to you then I'm sorry, Leon, but I'm living in the present here, and it doesn't have time for crying over bad words, okay?"

      He glided his hands through his hair with his jaw set in a tense line. He hadn't bothered to look. For a year, she was all he saw delicately beautiful and balanced in his hands. The noise from the world didn't matter if he could plant a gentle kiss on her forehead or lightly trace his thumb across the smooth bows of her lips while she leaned into his touch. Nothing else mattered if he could hear the slight pitter patter of her steps across the floorboards in the middle of the night being careful not to wake him, as she lost the time long ago in a good book. He hadn't looked.

      Did it matter now? Really, if it could just be the two of them and nothing more, would he care what the world had to say?

      And the way she spoke with such determination and authority, the few times the honey suckle kindness wilted and she told him how she really felt, that's when he wanted Daya the most.

      The kingdom could have what they wanted with Leon; he didn't care, and for the longest time, it didn't matter what they said about her either. But she cared, and that made all the difference.

     "So what's the plan? Are we hitting the questions straight on or-?" He scratched the back of his neck deep in thought.

      Daya propped her arm up against her knee, and then rested her head in her palm, "We sorta have to, but long term, I was thinking something more... impactful to really make a statement."

      "Well, what is it?"

      "Getting married for real this time...?"

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      Hi everyone! Sorry I took a major break. I devoted a lot of my time to a writing contest for a scholarship, and I'm happy to say that 3 out of 6 of my works are eligible for national judging! Thank you for your patience. I am coming back to HLH full time, but keep in mind, I am reworking some issues with the plot, so updates won't be on a weekly basis. I'm aiming for monthly, since most of what I have written are 2000-3000 word parts, but we'll see. Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a happy, healthy, new year! 💜