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Rose thorn

My auburn hair lies still on my shoulders as I stare out my window at the training grounds.

I've wanted so badly to go down there and pick up a sword, and train with the young men.

I'm not allowed to, though. "No lady should ever pick up a sword, it is improper," I say quietly to myself, quoting what grace had said the first time she caught me on the training grounds.

Grace is the one who has raised me. She is my personal teacher, maid, and overall helper. I despise her, and my parents.

My hands that I had resting lightly on my window sill tighten into fists. I want to fight in the war, and they won't let me. It is my duty to protect my subjects.

"They aren't your subjects yet," I mumble to myself, quoting grace again. Grace had said that when I had made the same point I just made in my head.

I give a start as I hear my bedroom door open. I look back, and see Grace. "Your mother and father asked me to bring you to them," she says. I already know why.

They've been trying to make me choose a future king and husband. I turn back to my window in silent refusal. I'm tired of meeting with men that think they own me.

I hear Grace sigh, and walk toward me. "You need to go. A queen needs a king to-" she is abruptly cut off by the sound of my hand meeting her face.

I'm tired of that. That "A queen needs a king" crap.

Grace looks at me with a hard face and grabs my arm, basically dragging me towards the throne room, probably where my parents are.

The large door opens with a loud bang, and my parents look at me and grace. I see a question appear in both of their eyes when they see Grace's cheek. They don't say anything about it though, and instead look over at the young man standing only a few feet away from me. He has black hair, and wears black clothing. The style is something you'd expect a prince to wear. He smiles at me, and I have to stop myself from running from the room or puking when I see what is pinned on his shirt. A raven pin. He's the raven prince. The prince of our enemies.

I stay silent as he walks toward me, the same smile on his face. He stops a foot in front of me, and my parents and grace leave the room. By the rules of royal courting, my parents and his parents aren't allowed to be in the same room, or watch. I don't like what that last addition implies.

The moment the door closes, I slap him across the face. It takes almost no time for a red handprint to appear on his face. He slowly turns his head to look at me. "Why . . ." he starts to ask, but trails off.

A mischievous look in his eyes appear, and I don't let him see the confusion in mine. He was just slapped, why do his eyes have that look?

"Well, our first meeting is turning out odd, my rose. Hopefully you will not-" I cut him off. Rose? "My name is not rose, and I'm not yours."

He puts one of his fingers against my cheek, and then pulls his finger away quickly, as if pricked. "Are you sure? You're red, and have thorns." A mischievous grin appears on his lips.

It's only just then I feel the heat in my cheeks. I'm blushing. I raise my hand to slap him again, but he catches my wrist. "Let go of me," I say through gritted teeth, still straining my arm, hoping his grip will slip, and I'll be able to slap him.

The grin on his face disappears, and says in a serious voice,"I will not let you hurt me. Please, do not harm me again." He says the last sentence with an odd tone in his voice. Almost sounding like a plea. His face shows sympathy and the hunger to know what's wrong.

I stare into his dark eyes for a few moments, then let my arm stop trying to slap him. "I hate you, by the way," I say quietly, bringing my gaze down to the floor. "You are the prince of the enemy, and I have learned to hate you. You're also childish." I make sure to put some extra venom into those last words.

"I apologize for being born." My head shoots up, and I look at his face. The emotion that is clear is a bitter one. He looks so pitiful.

Without thinking, and before I could stop myself, I step forward, closing the gap between us and pulling him into a hug. I feel him tense up, but eventually relaxes, returning the hug. It feels right. It feels warm. An emotion I've never felt boils up in my heart, and tears spring up in my eyes. I've never been hugged. And yes, I know, I'm the one who started the hug, but he hugged me back.

He feels me shaking, and tightens his hug. "Are you alright?" He asks, concern seeping into his voice. I start crying harder. No one asked me that before.

We stay like that for awhile. After what felt like a few minutes, when in reality it was an hour, he pulled away from me. I immediately feel the loss of the hug, and the cold chill in the room. The throne room is always cold, even in the summer.

"Are you alright now?" He asks me as I wipe the tears from my puffy cheeks. I nod.

"So . . . what do you wanna do for our first date?" He asks me with a grin. I immediately laugh. I can't help it. "What?" He asks, confused about why I'm laughing,"Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you laugh, but it's kind of abrupt."

"You just- Pfft haha- changed the subject so quickly I-" I burst out into another fit of laughter. I have to hold my middle because of the pain of laughing so much.

"Well . . . you're certainly easy to entertain," he says with a grin on his face shaking his head,"I'm serious though, what do you wanna do?"

"Maybe walk through the gardens?" I suggest. He smirks, and I know what he's thinking. "And yes, we have roses." His smirk gets wider, if that's even possible.

He takes my arm in his, and we walk outside together into the warm air. A small breeze makes my hair shift a little, and he notices. "Your hair is beautiful, almost as beautiful as you," he says, breaking the silence that had settled on us.

I let my gaze fall to the gravel pathway, "you don't hate it?" We abruptly stop, and he guides my gaze up to his by lifting up my chin with his pointer finger and thumb. "Why do you think I'd hate it?" He asks, sadness in his voice.

I turn my head away, despite his efforts of keeping my gaze on his. "I . . . no reason," I say, and I continue walking. "We are almost at the roses, they are supposed to be in full bloom right now, so you will most likely enjoy the sight."

He will most likely look at the roses the whole time, why would he look at me? I'm not the prettiest rose on the bush. Why does he think my hair is pretty?

We arrive at a small, open circular structure, surrounded by rose bushes and climbing roses crawling up the intricate metal work in between the small support posts. We sit down on the one bench, and I lean my head on his shoulder. He lays his head on my head. His hand travels down my arm to my hand, and he laces our fingers together. He does the same thing he did earlier, grabbing my chin to make me look at him.

"You are the most beautiful rose I have ever met," he says, leaning towards me, softly pressing his lips against mine.

I lean more into the kiss, loving the sensation of kissing another person. This was what I was missing.

True love.

As we kiss, the roses around us turn black with shadows, the shadows moving towards both of us. The only thing I hear and feel before darkness engulfs me, is the feeling of lips on mine, and three words that would render me speechless if I had the ability to speak at that moment.

"I love you."

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First time writing romance. Did I do a good job at it?

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I have another BNHA story I'm writing, so please check it out if you want. :)

I'm still taking suggestions for short stories, so please suggest something.

1490 words :)