Chapter Text
Standing outside of the castle gates, Komaeda feels...
Actually, he is not quite sure.
The last week has been... difficult. The letters with Kamukura have ceased since Nanami's visit, and he doesn't blame Kamukura one bit. Keeping a low profile is more important now than ever. He steps off the carriage fully, his regalia shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, and steps forward to brush a hand over the horses’ snouts. In a moment of blissful peace, the driver, an old friend, smiles at him and he smiles back... only for the spell to be broken by--
"K-K-Komaeda?! My dress is s-stuck!"
Komaeda sighs, his teeth gritting together, and he walks back to the other side of the carriage. Princess Tsumiki has somehow managed to entangle her skirts in the wooden wheel, slowly ripping the fabric as she tugs on it anxiously. She is crying, which is unsurprising, and he finds the scene far too amusing. Were it not for her distress, he would laugh, but the poor girl doesn't deserve that. He quickly helps untangle her, shaking his head.
"My Princess," the words feel hollow and sour on his tongue, "How do you manage to do such things? It seems whenever I turn my back you have found a new way to bring yourself harm or embarrassment."
He winces as her cries increase in volume, now turning into a string of apologies. "Sshh, hush. It is alright, just--please be more careful." He takes her hand in his, patting it sincerely. Despite it all, she is quite nice, and certainly undeserving of her fate with a husband who cannot love her.
"Are you ready to go inside? The King and Queen are expecting us soon... but we can take a moment, if you need to do so." Cautiously, he brings a hand up to her face, wiping the tears away and smiling.
"I-It is okay." She sniffles, "We can g-go. Th-Thank you." Her voice is so small, but she smiles nonetheless. Komaeda nods and, together, they walk inside.
Kamukura is beyond bored and the chatter of all of the guests was getting on his nerves. He had managed to seclude himself from Enoshima, who was loud and obnoxious and talking to anyone she possibly could reach. Her dress was large and extravagant and it made Kamukura sick to his stomach; she didn’t deserve that. Her husband did not love her (and he knew she only loved him on a superficial level, if even that) and wanted to be wed to someone else. He had quickly tired and bored of socialization and hid himself away in an adjacent room. His advisors were livid and tried to coax him out but he was stubborn as a bull. They finally left him there to return to Enoshima’s side, because truthfully, this wasn’t Kamukura’s wedding anyway—it was hers. Everything was about her.
Kamukura was fine with this.
Nanami had been taking coats and offering seats and everything in between; she had been trying to get to Kamukura for over an hour, but snooty regal guests had been pulling her aside for petty favors the entire afternoon. She was tired and upset and prayed he was doing alright alone.
At the doors, she happened to catch a glimpse of the bright white jacket and its sparkling regalia; her heart skipped and she tried her hardest to hide her excitement, standing in the arches and waiting for them to approach. Once they were close enough though, she smiles politely (a bit wider than necessary) and bows deeply.
“Good afternoon, Prince Komaeda and Princess Tsumiki.” She lifts her head, looking between the two of them. “The King will be pleased to see you.” The word ‘king’ is spat—only slightly—and she beckons to them. “Would you like me to take anything of yours?”
Upon seeing Nanami, Komaeda instantly brightens, giving her a small smile. "Thank you, but I do not think we have anything. We left it all in our carriage." He tightens his arm around Tsumiki, "Do you, dear?" The woman shakes her head timidly and Komaeda continues, "Your estate looks as lovely as I remember. I am so happy to have been given an invitation for such a momentous occasion. Is the King around? I wish to give my congratulations."
Nanami smiles. She remembers Tsumiki from when she met Kamukura all those years ago; she was timid and meek, but she was so, so kind. It was difficult for her not to feel bad for the poor Princess, having knowledge of what would happen to her marriage in the near future. However, her love for her childhood friend outweighed all and so she nodded, scrunching her lips to the side with the tilt of her head.
“His Majesty is sitting in the wardrobe room; it is far too noisy in the ballroom and he wished to get away from the madness for a moment.” Her eyes twinkle. “I am sure he will not mind if you bother him, however.”
Komaeda smiles back and nods, turning to Tsumiki. "My Princess, would you like to go mingle while I catch up with the King? I'm sure this servant would be happy to show you around, or perhaps you can go meet the Queen?" He forces his lips to stay in a smile, narrowly avoiding a harsh grimace at the phrase. "Weddings are wondrous times to meet new friends. I will only be a moment."
In response, Tsumiki nods, her body language more of a scared stray cat than a person of royalty. She steps away from Komaeda, looking between Nanami and the crowds of people in the distance. She squeaks and her eyes suddenly well up.
"O-Oh no... I'm being so r-rude! Please f-forgive me!" Suddenly, she is bowing to Nanami , tears leaking from her eyes, "...I-I would love to meet the Q-Queen if-if you would a-allow me!"
The small girl is taken aback, never having experienced this before. This woman—a princess --is bowing to her —a mere servant. Nanami stumbles on her words, unsure of what to say at first.
“U-Um, you were not being rude! It is alright!” She ducks down to try and look Tsumiki in the face; already there are globs of tears rolling down her cheeks and smearing her makeup. Nanami feels terrible, waving her hands. “I would love to take you to meet the Queen! She is, ah, very sociable , so I am sure she would love to meet you too.”
Kamukura can hear the cries from even where he is at and turns his head, heart stopping as he listens. He would recognize Tsumiki’s wailing anywhere. The King’s sharp ears try to pick up any sign of Komaeda’s voice to no avail. He stops running his fingers through his hair idly and turns to look at the door, holding his breath and counting the seconds that go by. Ruby eyes are focused on the knob and he doesn’t realize that he is praying in his consciousness. He closes them and focuses his thoughts.
Please, my love, return to me.
Tsumiki stands up, her hands in front of her face defensively, and nods, still whimpering. "Th-Thank you!" She sniffs and blinks the tears from her eyes, glancing at Komaeda, "I w-will see you later, alright?"
Komaeda nods in response and sends a half-apologetic, half-thankful smile at Nanami. "Take your time. It will be good for me to get more well acquainted with the King since our trade deal. Have fun, Tsumiki, please?" He bows to her slightly, and, at her shaky nod, starts on his way to the room down the hall, squaring his shoulders and turning the handle.
Kamukura tenses. He... actually hadn’t expected anyone so quick. His heart stops as he opts to look away, feigning disinterest in case it were anybody but whom he was expecting, resting his chin in his hand. He couldn’t hide his shallow breath and closed his eyes, hoping for the best case scenario.
Walking into the room, laying eyes on Kamukura, and seeing the way the soft sunlight from the small windows bounce off his unruly, beautiful hair is-- by far --the best feeling Komaeda has ever felt. He audibly lets out a sigh of relief. Weeks of stress and torment all let go in one, simple moment. He steels himself until the door is shut behind him, and once it is closed he leans against the heavy wood, his heart racing.
"Hello," He nearly whispers, a disbelieving smile gracing his expression. It feels surreal, seeing him again. Were it not for all of the evidence he has of the other man's existence, he would be sure everything about Kamukura was a dream. He stays flat against the door, not exactly trusting his legs to work properly if he were to move them. Or, perhaps, that any movement would break the spell of the dream he was surely in.
Upon the sound of the breathy voice behind him, Kamukura felt himself melt into his chair out of relief and love. He turned his head to look back at the door, eyes slowly taking in the sight of the other man from head to toe. He was a tall drink of water and the King was dehydrated. He looked incredibly handsome in his celebratory regalia, still white on every garment, and Kamukura stood.
His ebony hair was smooth as it fell down his back when he moved; he himself wore a large ermine cloak that draped over his shoulders and dusted along the floor by the heels of his shoes. His typical jacket had been traded for a jacket that was much more mature; it buttoned three-quarters across his chest and golden tassels fell down the front. A diagonal red stripe strapped across the length of his torso and a golden ribbon belt hugged his waist. He had boots that rose up to his knees, giving him a bit of extra height, and an expensive, velvet crown sat atop the cascade of black hair; it was covered in sparkling jewels and its shape was held together by pure gold. It made his eyes pop and he smiled coyly at his White Prince, hand on his hip just above where a sheathed rapier rested.
“Hello, stranger,” his deep voice was smooth as silk, “you look lovely.”
Komaeda’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the Prince— King . His King. He looks the part entirely, wearing overdone royal garb across his finely tailored suit. Komaeda rakes his eyes across him, feeling nearly dizzy with the overwhelming emotions he is feeling. Relief, love, lust... it is all so much and he leans heavily against the door for a moment longer, getting his bearings before stepping into the room completely. At his sides, his hands tremble. Whether it be from anticipation, anxiety, or something entirely different he does not know, but he stops before Kamukura, staring at him. He wants to touch him. Craves it like a drug. Still, the fear of being walked in on outweighs his desires.
"My King," he mumbles, wetting his lips slightly before continuing, "I do not believe I have ever seen a more wonderful sight." His eyes crinkle at the corners, "How fitting of an attire for our wedding day." A thrill courses through him as he says the words, and he brings his hand to his chest, wiggling his fingers as the ring glints in the sunlight.
Kamukura swallows, glancing down at the ring on Komaeda’s finger and feeling pride swell in his chest. Today truly was the day. He lifted his left hand up off of his hip to hold it so his partner could see—sure enough, the wedding band that had belonged to Komaeda’s father was on his finger. The King chuckled lightly.
“The wretched woman did not even realize that this is not the same ring I am supposed to be wearing.” He reached out cautiously, caressing the porcelain cheek of the Prince. In these boots, he was about an inch taller than him, and it was somewhat amusing.
“Although... this ring is the one I should be wearing, and therefore I am.” He swiped the pad of his thumb across Komaeda’s bottom lip with a cheeky grin, leaning in for a kiss. “I cannot wait to take you as my husband, my angel.”
"Soon, love." Komaeda melts into the kiss, his skin alight with every touch of fire, " My king. We may not hold our titles in just a short while, but in my heart, you rule my entire world. I am yours forever." He deepens the kiss, parting his lips and quickly swiping his tongue before remembering where they are. He pulls away, cheeks burning, "I wish to kiss you without fear. Soon, I know, we may... but... perhaps in our next life we may, for I am sure we shall meet again."
He glances to the door with a chuckle, placing his hand overtop Kamukura's, "I almost feel bad for my bride. She is kind, albeit a strong annoyance to me. Her husband can never love her as she deserves to be loved. Perhaps my leave will be a blessing to her."
Anything Komaeda ever says slips off of his tongue like velvet and Kamukura absolutely adores him. He could say anything he wanted in the pretty voice of his and the King would melt at his feet. Upon the feeling of his tongue on his lips, he inhales sharply, pulling away quickly in fear that if he didn’t he would have gotten carried away. His cheeks flush and he chuckles a bit, intertwining their fingers. “I will find my way to you no matter what life we are living. We are magnets; you are the north to my south, quite literally in this life’s case.”
His thumb mindlessly caresses the side of Komaeda’s index as he speaks; the reality that he is currently hiding away at his own wedding fizzles away and he finds himself entranced by the beauty of the other man. He listens intently, humming once Komaeda is finished.
“Tsumiki is very kind; I remember her as such. I agree, it is indeed a shame, but I wonder if your leave will perhaps bring her true love upon her when they otherwise might not have met?” A small smile graces his lips. “Fate has a funny way of working like that.”
"I do hope so. She deserves much better than she has been dealt. It nearly pains me to leave her, but merely out of fear that she will be mistreated by someone else." He pauses and shakes his head, "Poor girl. But I must look at the positives..."
He leans forward, bringing his mouth to Kamukura's ear, "When do we leave, my King? Say the word and I will run with you." He whispers, breath ghosting across the Dark King's skin. "My beautiful king, I have seen you in moonlight and the break of dawn. In roses and blood and the eyes of the stable cat." His lips brush Kamukura's ear, "I am ready to run. I have never been more prepared for something in my entire life."
Kamukura’s hand instinctively moves to hold Komaeda by the hip, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the feeling of warm breath on his skin. His cold eyes are trained on the door, honed into any sign of an unwelcome body on the other side, listening in. He tilts his head into Komaeda’s, turning his own so he can press his lips against a soft temple, raking his other hand through thick white hair.
“My White Prince, although I wish to run right now, we must wait until it is dark.” He closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of his love finally in his arms again. “If we were to go now, people would surely notice. If we wait until the late evening amidst the celebrations, we will be able to slip away; we will take my horse, as she is black as pitch, and cloaked we will steal away like thieves in the night and be gone hours before anyone truly realizes.”
Komaeda grins, pressing his face into Kamukura's neck, "So soon... freedom so tantalizingly close. I will wait, but it will be unbearable." He pulls back once more, holding Kamukura at arms’ length and giving him a once over, "Might I say, you look beautiful. Of course, you always do... but you have a glow to you today. In your eyes, I mean. Perhaps you feel as alive as I do? It is as if the clouds have finally parted, isn't it?" He drops his arms, already missing the warmth of the other but knowing that they must avoid suspicion.
The expression that befalls the Dark King’s face is a soft one as he feels himself grow warm at the compliments. His cheeks tint red and he falls even deeper in love with his Prince; it is killing him that he cannot reach out and hold him longer. Soon. We will be free to love each other soon.
“Those words mean tenfold when coming from such a beautiful man as you.” Kamukura folds his hands in front of him, the weight of the ermine cloak on his shoulders keeping him grounded. “I have seen you in so many beautiful things around me. You have been in the clouds and the doves’ wings and the white sunlight that shines through the slits in the curtains. There has not been a night where you haven’t graced my dreams. I am ecstatic to have you by my side again; that is the light that you see within my eyes.”
"Must I go mingle? I think I would prefer to be poisoned than interact with more nobility. My kingdom of snow is so isolated, this is far more excitement than I've had in ages." Komaeda grimaces harshly at the door, listening to the faint sounds of chatter and celebration. "Ugh. People . Why must they be so noisy?"
Kamukura listens, tilting his head. His long black hair swings a bit as it falls off of his shoulders. “A majority of it likely originates from Enoshima’s guests. She is especially loud herself, so I would imagine that her nobles are not far off.” Kamukura chuckles affectionately. “As much as you would detest it, I do believe it would be good for you to mingle. I will follow shortly after you; the less suspicion we have upon ourselves, the better.”
A childish whine escapes Komaeda, so unlike the usually proper Prince. He crosses his arms and glares at the door as if it has committed some sort of personal crime against him.
"...Fine, but I only do so because I love you. I do so hate loud noises, and I feel like Enoshima will be quite the enemy toward me." He throws one last angry glance toward the door before looking back to Kamukura, expression softening. "See you in a few hours?"
“She is an absolute scourge, I will warn you.” The other man winks coolly, hands in his pockets. “See you in a few hours, my dear Prince.” He went back to the seat he had been in, going back to looking out the window as if he hadn’t had a visitor at all. He closed his eyes, listening for the door to shut behind him.
Komaeda’s cheeks flare at the wink and as he shuts the door he quickly tries to school his expression, doing some deep breathing to calm his racing heart. Casual. Calm. Collected . He squares his shoulders and makes his way back down the hallway, immediately flinching slightly at the wave of noise that greets him. He scans the crowd for Tsumiki, hoping desperately for a familiar face.
Nanami had been obedient, taking Tsumiki right to Enoshima as soon as the Queen was free, and stood close by; she was clearly trying to hide an annoyed expression. Enoshima had Tsumiki’s hands and was talking and talking and talking and wouldn’t allow the meek Princess to get a word of her own in. The nasal voice was loud overtop the crowd but nobody else seemed to mind her.
She too wore an ermine cloak, although hers was much less extravagant, only draped behind her back. Her dress was thick and poofy and had intricate little details sewn into its skirt; her bodice was tight and she had so many diamond necklaces on it looked as if water was dripping down the peachy skin near her collarbones. Most notable was the long strawberry-blonde hair that had been worked into a bun toward the back of her head, the rest falling down her back. She also wore a crown similar to Kamukura’s—unlike his distaste, Enoshima adored hers.
“Yeah! So like.” Enoshima shrugged, messing with the silk seam of her cloak. Her nails were long and painted the same blood-red that her lips were. She was admittedly gorgeous. “Just a little about me. I’m excited to be here, though. I’ve always heard soooooo much about this kingdom but never had much business here; how about you?”
Komaeda finally spots Tsumiki beside the Queen. Enoshima isn't difficult to spot, what with her massive hair and gown. (Not to mention her gargantuan ego.) It practically filled the room with a suffocating energy, everyone crowding around to get a word in with her. Tsumiki looks like a shivering leaf beside her, and Komaeda is honestly quite impressed that she hasn't run away sobbing yet. He walks up beside her, bowing quickly to the Queen as Tsumiki speaks.
"M-Me? Oh, dear, th-this is my first time coming here. I-It's quite beautiful though! M-Me and m-my f-f-fiancé live in th-the Northern kingdoms!" She squeaks out, immediately noticing Komaeda and looping her arm in his.
He smiles at her, hoping it doesn't come across strained, "It is a pleasure, Your Highness. Prince Komaeda, at your service. My immense congratulations on the wedding, and may your kingdom reign forever." The words slip off his tongue like silk. He always knows what to say to people like this: flattery will do so much so easily. It has worked on everyone... except Kamukura, naturally. Fake smiles and bows and hollow compliments fall to deaf ears when it comes to the Dark Prince.
Enoshima’s attention quickly shifts from one royal to the other—she is not mean to Tsumiki, but she finds her far too timid for her liking. Thankfully she had an excuse to look at Komaeda, smiling politely as he introduced himself. Her eyes held a sparkle within them as she looked him up and down, brows furrowed in thought so quickly that it was hardly noticeable; that was gone as swiftly as it appeared and she acted no differently than she had with Tsumiki, clapping quietly.
“Pleasure to meet you! Thanks for the kind words; it means a lot.” She lifted her chin with a smile, looking between Komaeda and Tsumiki. Nanami still stood nearby, beginning to grow distracted by the demands of the nobles around her. “You’re awfully pretty for a guy. What a catch, huh?” She playfully stuck her tongue out at Tsumiki.
Komaeda blinks rapidly, unsure how to take that. Tsumiki seems about the same, stuttering were way into a sentence, "A-Ah, uhm, y-yes! I-I a-am quite l-lucky to have s-such a handsome h-husband!" Her voice has gone up an octave and her stutter gets worse.
Choosing to take pity on her, Komaeda steps in, bowing slightly once more and pretending his ears aren't burning, "Thank you, Your Highness. You are very kind, but I am far from it. Certainly, I am nothing but a speck of dirt next to your glory. Nor my bride-to-be's beauty." He straightens and smiles with closed lips, gritting his teeth behind it.
This seemed to absolutely stroke Enoshima’s ego; she grinned, laughing through her teeth.
“You’re too kind! Seriously, how sweet you are.” She makes no effort to correct or rebuttal him. Her speech is anything but formal; she has no need for it to be as such when she already has as much power she could ask for. She flips her hair a bit, moving her hands to her hips and scanning the crowd behind them, feigning interest in their conversation. “So... what’s your kingdom like? Where are you from?” She does not seem to be bothered by the fact that Tsumiki has just explained this, searching for any sign of long black hair.
Komaeda and Tsumiki exchange a quick glance, frowning.
"Ah," says the Prince, "Our kingdoms are Northern. As the summer ends we have been getting slight dustings of snow... we are wealthy in the mining industry, since the cold makes it difficult to farm consistently." Tsumiki gives a small noise of affirmation, nodding and hugging Komaeda closer. She seems just as afraid as he feels deep inside, he is just much better at hiding his distaste. Rather... he chooses to be bold, giving a strained smile, "Are we distracting you, your Highness? We may dismiss ourselves, if that is what you desire." Polite, but implying. Just his style.
Enoshima had hummed at Komaeda’s response, going to say something undeniably short and uninterested as she was searching, but she stopped at his second comment. Her eyes flash again but this time she smiles with closed lips.
“No, no, you’re totally fine. There’s just a lot going on, y’know? Lots of guests, lots of people to see...” Enoshima finally catches sight of the King, talking with a few of his own guests on the far side of the room; she breaks out into a grin and moves to approach him, but seems to remember she is in a conversation. The Queen looks to them apologetically (if apologies were insincere) and folds her hands in front of her.
“Pardon me—if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go bother my husband now. He’s been MIA most of this time and he’s finally out; I want to see his pretty face.” She pokes her tongue out playfully again, giving a wag of her fingers. “Go have fun! Go talk to people, make connections, stuff like that. I’ll talk to you guys later.” With that, she left them behind, beelining for Kamukura.
The King hadn’t seen her coming, so he flinched a bit when she threw her arms around him, laughing loudly over the rest of the ballroom. Enoshima did not seem to care that he was in conversation and reached up to hold his chin, kissing him right on the lips. When they separated, the King had red lipstick left behind on the corner of his mouth and she laughed again, opting to leave it there as a symbol of possession if anything else. He did not seem to be bothered, but it was only for the sake of saving face; he knew he had to hide his disgust because not only would his advisors kill him, but he did not want rumors to bubble up that he had interest in someone else. He had to protect Komaeda—this was why he did not pull away when the Queen hugged his waist, pulling him close as she rested her head against his arm and listened as Kamukura’s guest began to speak again.
Nanami was able to free herself before any more guests could pester her, moving to the far more polite pair; perhaps in another life, she would have even been allowed to call them her ‘friends’. “The Queen is very bold and easily distracted...” She went to apologize but knew she would be deeply scolded if she implied anything negative of her monarch, so she pursed her lips and glanced away instead.
Ignoring the stab of sudden jealous, murderous rage that courses through him at the scene, Komaeda gives a pleasant smile, "Hm. Yes, I suppose she can afford to do so with her status. What a life she must live." He huffs and looks at Tsumiki, who is still trembling and staring after Enoshima, "My Princess? Are you alright?"
Tsumiki lets out a small yelp and nods far too enthusiastically, "Y-YES! S-Sorry I am just a bit, uh... th-thirsty! I'll b-be back sh-shortly!" With that she bows and hurries off into the crowd, supposedly to get a drink despite the many servants wandering around.
Komaeda looks back to Nanami and his smile drops a bit, showing his utter exhaustion. Talking to people is easy. It's all patterns and calculations and procedure, but that doesn't make it any less draining. The collar of his coat is too itchy, the jingling of the regalia grating against his ears just like the dozens upon dozens of people in the room. His face is flushed and, honestly, he just wants to leave.
Nanami frowns as she watches Tsumiki leave, wishing to follow after her to make sure she was alright but not wanting to suffocate her or seem like she was obligated to stay at her side. She feels terrible, offering a similarly-tired smile back at the Prince, hands folded in front of her. “I understand,” she mouths before glancing around the room. Her voice returns. “I will be close by. If you need me, do not hesitate to call for me.” Despite his constant insistence not to bow to him, she does so anyway (as they had an audience), and moves to find something to do among the sea of royals that she has never quite enjoyed being around.
Mingle. Avoid suspicion, Komaeda’s subconscious reminds him, so he does. With one last tired glance to Nanami, he turns and begins speaking to the various Monarchs around, introducing himself with ease. Laugh here. Jest there. Nod at that. It's procedure... and it is all so fake that it makes his teeth hurt. But he continues, keeping Kamukura in his peripheral as a calming reminder of why.
Kamukura is mentally exhausted as well, with another guest behind him any direction he turns. He can barely get a moment to breathe, and even if he does, Enoshima manages to glue herself to his side. At one point he is able to catch Komaeda’s eye from across the room, winking at him yet again. The lipstick on his mouth has dried but is still visible, but he does not seem to remember that it is there.
Hours pass, and at some point, Komaeda has lost count of how many bland introductions he has heard. Lighthearted jokes and stories of utterly boring ‘adventures’ fly past him. He cannot for the life of him remember a single person individually, which may be horrible of him, but... in just a short while, it won't matter any more.
Kamukura's wink is one saving grace. It leaves him flustered and reminds him of why he must do this. Why he has to be here, mingling with people who insist upon commenting on his feminine appearance, or trade routes, or the price of lumber from the West. He feels that, if he stays for another moment he will see his reflection in his wine glass start to smile at his suffering.
He excuses himself from the group he is in, earning a few polite nods while others ignore him completely, and makes his way to the door. It is impolite to leave, but stepping out into the gardens for a moment couldn't hurt. The massive ballroom has become utterly suffocating , and if the sweat of his palms is anything to indicate, he may be having a bit of an episode. His illness tends to cause bouts of fever and anxiety, as well as mood shifts; perhaps it is best to excuse himself for the time being.
He passes Nanami, hardly even giving her a glance in his haze, and opens the door to the hallway. He has no idea how to get to the gardens, but he decides to trust his odd friendship with luck, turning down three hallways before finding a random door and stepping through. With no bench in sight, he leans against the brick wall, breathing rough. Dusk is approaching, the sky bathed in oranges and pinks, and the sight does wonders for keeping him grounded.
Nanami has to stop dead in her tracks to prevent Komaeda from walking directly into her; she watches him hurry out with quickened, crooked steps and desperately wants to follow, but she is currently in the middle of refilling glasses and providing refreshments and is bound to the errand. She curses at herself for being bound the way she was—she had been born into this job, yet the last month or so had created a foreign feeling that sat low in her stomach and ate at her from the inside out. Something didn’t sit right anymore. She didn’t like that she was limited in what she could do—such as what she could say, touch, or try—and she didn’t like the hierarchies that were becoming more and more apparent to her now that her rose-colored glasses had been taken off. It wasn’t fair that Kamukura and Komaeda had to run away in order to be happy and it wasn’t fair that marriages had to be forced in the first place and it wasn’t fair that humans could be seen as below other humans, achillean or servants or not. All Nanami could do was puff her cheeks in concern, moving on with her errands and praying Komaeda would be alright.
Kamukura, in all of his distractions, hadn’t even noticed Komaeda had stepped out; he had been purposely avoiding searching for him to keep their affair as hidden as possible.
There had been the loud, echoing clicks of heels down the empty hallway that the gardens were connected to, and the heavy door swung open near-effortlessly. The white gown of Enoshima was at risk of getting dirty out here, but she did not seem to care, closing the door behind her and drinking in the sight of the hyperventilating man against the wall. Rather than comfort him, she smiled crookedly, tilting her head with her hands on her hips. The deep blue of her eyes were poison seas, full of formalin and arsenic and prepared to drown anyone that dared to cross them or the woman behind them.
“Who exactly,” she spat every word, full red lips drawn tight, “do you think you’re fooling?”
Komaeda startles, having been too caught up in trying to calm down to even have acknowledged the opening of the door. Whipping around, he takes in the woman before him, all flowing fabric and sparkly, expensive jewels. Only moments ago, he had been on his way to relaxing, but now, staring at the Queen in bewilderment, his heart rate picks back up and he suddenly gets the urge to sprint back to the comfort of his lonely kingdom and never set foot outside again.
Her words catch up to him and he blinks, "I-I beg your pardon, Your Highness?" He stutters, attempting to catch his breath. She could not possibly mean that she knows, does she? The two men had been as subtle as can be... at least, so Komaeda had thought. Their biggest fear had been drawing suspicion from the Queen, and now that fear is coming alive before his very eyes. Like a snake raising up for the strike, teeth bared with blood-red venom. He attempts to recover, a small sheepish smile blooming on his face as he gives a small bow. "My apologies for leaving so soon, Queen Enoshima. I have a bit of an illness at the moment, it has greatly impeded my sinuses, you see."
Enoshima just hums, turning her eyes to slits. "Don't play dumb; you know exactly what I'm talking about." The startled expression on his face only confirmed what she already knew, and she steps closer to him, the breeze outside picking up and catching her hair; it flowed largely behind her and her gown billowed beneath her. She wanted nothing more than to lift her foot and crush the frail man beneath her heel. She held herself back though, keeping her jaw hard and gaze sharp.
Don't play dumb she says, as if he has a death wish. He smiles politely, tilting his head innocently, "My liege, I am afraid I haven't the clue of what you are referring to. Could you be more specific?" He steps off the wall entirely, moving closer to her. The white of her dress and the white of his attire make for quite the bright spectacle, he is sure. Anyone watching would think it were two doves fighting for territory. Perhaps, in a way, it is. He may not be strong in body, but he can be quick witted. He steps even closer to her.
"Accusing me of something on your wedding day? Could that be considered bad luck?" He still feels the effects of his episode buzzing in his mind, the tendrils of fog making his thoughts jumbled and convoluted. If he's being honest, he just wants a nap.
"Bad luck, my ass--it's not an accusation; this is pure fact." Enoshima does not back off, tilting her chin up to look at him. Her long eyelashes flit up and down as she sizes him up; the fact that she is riling him up is making her heart beat with excitement against her ribs. Now that he had bitten her line, she would begin to lightly tug on him, the hook pierced within his cheek. Her stone expression faded away and she smiled up at him, tapping her heel against the garden stone. "The closet you're hiding in's got glass doors, baby doll! Really a shame you never came to realize that yourself."
Fear is quite the emotion. Komaeda has known it well in his time. Misfortune after misfortune, time and time again he finds himself greeted by death, by pain and sorrow. Standing before him, he sees it again. This is not a woman; she is hardly a Queen--rather, she is a witch. One who casts despair upon everyone near her. She goes against everything Komaeda stands for in life, blocking his sunlight with thunderous clouds that shake the foundations of his home. Here, in the garden, where serene evening light cascades from the heavens and birds chirp peacefully from the safety of trees... he has never felt more terrified. He knows he must defend himself. He has to for the sake of himself, his kingdom, and most importantly, Kamukura .
He may be taller than her, but he feels small in her presence. Like an ant to be crushed. "How...?" he finds himself asking, and wishing he hadn't. She must be a witch, for she has casted a spell on him to curse his tongue. Lying is nearly impossible around her, he wants to crawl to her shoes and bow. It makes his skin crawl. How does she know? How did she figure it out?
Komaeda feels dizzy again and, despite him still meeting her gaze, a small light fades within his eyes. That spark of hope for their evening disappearance into the night. For a nice countryside farm with his love. For happiness. It's crumbling around him, and he grits his teeth against a burning behind his face.
Watching him crumble beneath her gaze was delicious . Enoshima let out a giggle—it sounded so innocent and becoming, yet the pure venom behind it could make the toughest of men shiver.
“Oh come on, really? You’re clearly gay. You look the part for sure.” She makes a point of looking him over again, curling her nose at his outfit. “You’re a walking example, pretty boy. Anybody could see that.”
She could practically feel Komaeda’s heart in her palm, pulsing and hammering beneath her fingers. It was tempting to squeeze her fist and feel it rupture beneath her hand—his warm blood spilling down her arm and staining her white gown red—but she always preferred to toy with her prey as if it were a petty game of cat and mouse.
Enoshima tucks her tongue in her cheek, inspecting her long, crimson nails. “Not only are you almost as pretty as me, but Kamukura’s servants talk amongst themselves.” She flicks her gaze back up at him, eyes half-lidded in an unidentifiable emotion. Her voice has changed; it is now faux-posh, as if she were mocking their guests inside. “I find it quite interesting that the man famous for his stoic, mysterious personality just suddenly up and changed one day. Pinpointing the change, it can be rooted back to a visit from a certain White Prince from the North.” Her jaw hardens again and her voice begins to raise. “The guards talk too. That’s just—a little— crazy that negotiations were to be made overnight? In his own quarters?” She lets out a harsh laugh.
Komaeda wants to cry, he wants to scream and fight and wrap his hands around her neck, squeezing until she's quiet. He thinks that, even in death, she would find a way to be obnoxious, and he can't risk the trouble he would get in from it. Trapped... that's what he is. Like a caged animal and he doesn't know where the door is. His hands shake, and he grips the sides of his pant legs.
He takes a breath, mentally, he already knows there is one good way out of this that doesn't end in disaster. If he cannot save himself, perhaps he can save Kamukura.
"You are correct," he affirms, voice quiet. Maybe his death will be quick when it comes, and, one day, he may find Kamukura in another life. One where things work out for the both of them. He hardens his gaze at Enoshima. "But you are also wrong. I tried to seduce the King, but he ignored my advances. In fact, I think I merely made him uncomfortable. His change in behavior is one of discomfort and hatred. He has avoided speaking with me this entire day, haven't you noticed?" It hurts. It hurts to say like arrows in his chest. "My fiancée, Tsumiki, suspects nothing, and I will go on to marry her, return to our kingdom, and never travel South again, if that is your wish." It's a sad attempt, he knows. A weak negotiation for a crime that normally would mean execution. If he must go down, at least he was semi-honest. It may earn him some good fortune in his next life.
Enoshima makes a noise, making note of how tightly he gripped his pants. A fly in her web.
“I don’t know necessarily if I believe you,” she snivels, “but if I think about you fucking my husband any longer, I might have an aneurism.” Enoshima looks out to the gardens around them; without their confrontation, it would have been a beautiful twilight with the hedgerows and flower bushes blowing gently in the breeze. However, with the tension that the air held, the roses were more so their thorns and the poison plants overgrew and suffocated their harmless equivalents.
The Queen realizes something and looks back down to where Komaeda is white-knuckled against his slacks. Her expression floods with pure, unfiltered rage, and she is quick to grab at his left hand with her own, nearly crushing his fragile fingers in her grip. She adjusts them so their fingers intertwine, and even with her steel grasp on his hand, she is trembling, furious. Against the setting sun, it is clear as day—the wedding ring on his finger is the matching ring to the one on hers, the rubies glinting gorgeously. Their beauty has been dulled now, and the Queen grips him harder.
“So not only are you fucking gay , but you lied right to my face.” She grits her teeth, wrenching her hand back to pull at his arm. “ I could have you executed before the night is even over. ”
Komaeda’s heart rate picks up and tears spring into his eyes. His worst fears have been brought to life, every misfortune before now seeming minuscule in comparison to the current moment. She pulls him forward by their joined hands and her harsh touch leaves fire on his skin, long beautiful nails so piercing. For a woman with curves and soft features, she is anything but. She is harsh, angular and sharp. Like knives. He fights against her grip weakly, the tears in his eyes growing,
" N-No! No, please!" He begs, usual calm demeanor leaving completely. " Please, god, you can hurt me just--don't hurt him. Please. I'll do anything! Oh, please, please ..." The display is so unlike Komaeda, the Prince's proper facade slipping as his desperation grows. The more he pulls back, the harder her iron gripped nails dig into his hand. Even if he wanted to run, her gaze keeps him in place. She is so, so beautiful. So chillingly warm. Like frostbite. The woman is a snowstorm fit to starve a village, beautiful in scenery amongst the suffering in its wake.
His pleading falls on near-deaf ears; it takes all of her strength to not snap him in half right there. Execution sounds nice and would surely be an eventful way to end her wedding night; her sister wouldn’t be able to believe it. Enoshima forces herself to let go of him, taking a few steps back to sort her thoughts. If she were to execute Komaeda, she would have to execute Kamukura as well, and as revolting as it was to think about him kissing another man, she was truly attracted to his looks and didn’t want to lose waking up to that every morning. Her brows furrowed as she looked at her nails again; she had scraped him at one point, because blood lingered underneath the keratin. It wasn’t enough.
“I don’t know how you brought yourself to get involved with him, but why would you ever want to?” Enoshima’s gown had gotten slightly muddy in a spot close to the ground, but she couldn’t even bring herself to care. “Have you not heard the rumors?”
He stumbles back, shivering and huddled into himself, "The rumors? Of his lack of humanity? That he is a changeling?" He scoffs, "Only children would believe such fantasies." He is already so far into his fate, he finds he cannot stop his tongue from spitting venom, "He is kind . Unlike your unsightly hand, Enoshima. You know nothing of true love, and you never will..."
The Queen laughs harshly, grabbing at her skirt. “Yeah, maybe dumb shit like that , but there’s truth behind it. When you’re as powerful as I am, you can learn anything about anyone , whenever you want.” Enoshima snorts, gritting her teeth. “And maybe I won’t. That’s fuckin’ fine with me, baby. I don’t need love—I need fuckin’ power .”
Her hands were planted on her hips once more, only after she adjusted her crown to prevent it from falling off of her head. She did not break eye contact once, keeping her gaze steady on the Prince. “Don’t you think it’s weird that he just kind of up-and-appeared? You don’t think it’s strange that nobody will talk about who ruled before him? That it’s only been 23 years but people that are triple that in age won’t ever mention anything about the previous monarchs?”
He frowns. It is odd, but he never thought to pry. To him, it is Kamukura's business alone. He has done well for his kingdom; he rules justly and takes care of his citizens. The economy is flourishing... so what is the issue? He is tempted to not ask, to say he is uninterested and leave, but the mixture of Enoshima's cool glare and his simmering curiosity almost force his hand.
"...It is... odd. I will admit that, but I thought it rude to ask." Still curled in against himself protectively, he looks around at the last rays of sunlight hitting the garden. It will be dark soon. His stomach churns. "Tell me."
The cold woman runs a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair, the beautiful cascade growing tangled from the wind. Her gaze is strong and she focuses on Komaeda, watching him intensely with her deep-blue poison eyes.
“The previous monarchs were good, respectable people. They liked their subjects and the subjects liked them, y’know? They were adored . Both were beautiful on the inside and out; the Queen had long brown hair that fell down her back and the King had a smile that was contagious. So when they announced they were expecting, naturally, the kingdom went fuckin’ nuts . Like absolutely apeshit.” Enoshima shrugged. “As you do, I guess. So the time rolls around, the Queen has her baby, and they get one look at him and are fuckin’ paralyzed with fear.
“The boy was born with hair blacker than pitch. They could look past that, of course, because what if it would change over time, right? But when he opened his eyes, rather than the dull gray all babies are born with, his eyes were bright red and seared right through both of them, seeing right through to the deepest depths of their souls.” The Queen looked at the oak door close by as if she could see through it and past all of the winding hallways to find the man in question. “They were horrified and immediately felt that the gods had punished them for their sins. They thought their baby was replaced by a demon while he was still in the womb and that because of their status as monarchs, they were being defined by the gods as selfish, greedy, miserable people. Not wishing to be condemned, they decided to flee their kingdom entirely, transferring all of the power to the demon child and used their last order as monarchs to ensure that he would be raised within the castle by the servants. They requested that any traces of them were to be erased entirely and that they would never be spoken of again. Rather than name the kid what they were going to, they allowed the servants to name him instead, who named him after the man that had established the kingdom centuries ago.”
She tried to wipe the blood on her nails on her dress, not caring that it was white; it didn’t come off, having dried. “Of course, the fact that he grew up not feeling emotion only solidified their theory, and the servants truly began to believe that he was a demon as well.” Enoshima grinned slyly. “He isn’t actually emotionless; he’s got a condition. It’s called alexithymia. He just struggles with how to approach them and how to express them. But the whole ‘red eyes, black hair’ thing still doesn’t line up.”
The Queen tucked her hair behind her ear, growing irritated at how it kept blowing in her face. “So, basically, in short? The man you’re so deeeesperately in love with is not who he thinks he is—the servants were never to tell him. He is supposed to be a man named Hajime Hinata with pretty brown hair like his parents and an ability to feel. He’s supposed to be sooooo much more charismatic and charming.” The grass around them was beginning to dew and the crickets were starting to chirp. “He’s a fucking curse . He’s not supposed to be here. He’s not even a real man—he’s clearly borderline supernatural, and even if he wasn’t, his name doesn’t even belong to him. He’s a fucking fake .” In finality, she tilts her head, hands on her hips as she looks the fragile Prince over. “Why would you subject yourself to that? Why would you willingly want to spend the rest of your days with a demon? ”
It doesn't sit right. Komaeda wishes he hadn't asked. It feels wrong, wrong, wrong . Kamukura having a condition isn't the issue. Komaeda is ill himself, his brain deteriorating day by day until he loses himself entirely. But... Kamukura's parents disowned him? They left? Perhaps, if they had stayed, he would have been different, more personal and kind toward others. A poor upbringing can do a lot to a person... and it is not as though Kamukura knew any of this.
So why does he feel so betrayed? Perhaps it is the fact that Kamukura was meant to be someone else. Someone average, who Komaeda could never have fallen in love with. Perhaps they would never have met, and instead Komaeda would wither away in an unhappy marriage in the snow, shivering in a loveless castle nestled within a forest of white. It is the fate he deserves, that much he knows.
"Why would I spend the rest of my days with him?" He echoes, voice weak and broken, "Because he has offered me more hope in life than anything I have encountered. Call me selfish for wanting it all you would like, Your Highness... but demon or not, he is far, far more human than you or any other bland, monotonous drone in there!" His hands clenched tightly at his sides, tears turning hot as they spill, "He cannot help his fate! It is people like you who made him this way!"
Enoshima lets out a pitied hum, yet judging by the grin on her face, it is not actual pity at all. “People like me? ” She clicks her tongue. “Oh, baby doll, I haven’t done anything. I had only recently met him before getting engaged to him. If you wanna blame anyone, blame his parents.” She lets out a laugh, suddenly much more relaxed than she had been in the last few minutes. “I don’t know why you’re even wasting your breath anyway; you’re just gonna forget everything in six months, right?” She sticks her tongue out again, and rather than it’s original playfulness, it is quite clear that it is in mockery now. “Just close your eyes and take a long nap, Komaeda; this will all be in the past before you know it!”
"I won't forget him. How could I?" His voice grows desperate again, "You know just as much as I do how captivating he is. He is perfect in every sense of the word. I shall carry thoughts of him to my grave." The line of his shoulders slump, realizing now that that will truly be the case. The spark in him has gone out entirely. He feels sick. Wretched. Ugly. A small laugh escapes him and he clutches his arms, the last ray of sunlight disappearing over the horizon, blanketing the world in pale blue. "I suppose that I must now, hm? That is my fate? Alone forever, hoping for something that will never come? How unfortunate, if unsurprising. I suspected this... but it still hurts. I am unsure why, considering the years I spent planning for this. Odd, isn't it? What despair will do to a man?" He laughs again, hysterical as his grip turns iron over his arms.
The wicked woman only watches him break down, arms crossed across her chest as she catches sight of the tears rolling down his cheeks as he laughs. They glitter against his jawline before falling entirely; his pain and suffering is thrilling and she wants nothing more than to stand here and watch him forever. Such a polite and charming man reduced to a mess of tears and intrusive thoughts. She was truthfully impressed with herself at how quickly she had managed to break him—she had expected it to take longer.
Enoshima licked her lips, fixing her crown again. “At least it’s not entirely unexpected then.” She is grounded in her stance, hands on her hips once more. “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t snitch on you for liking dick if you get out of here and never show your face in this kingdom again. I’ll just forget about it. But if I ever hear of you trying to come around here or around Kamukura again, I’ll have your fuckin’ head on a stick within the hour.” She swallowed, taking in the bright white outfit of his that now appeared a slight blue from the lack of sunlight. There was something about breaking powerful men down that made her power trip even harder. “You understand?”
Komaeda nods, his entire body feeling like ice. He feels... dead. As if he just sold his entire soul to the woman before him. She claims that Kamukura is a demon, when in fact, it seems far more likely it is her. He can't live with this, he realizes, beginning to have difficulty breathing once more as his hands raise up to grip firmly at his scalp. There is no possible way he can continue after knowing what he has lost. His sickly smile returns and he looks at her, eyes dazed.
"Hm, actually, I've changed my mind. No."
Her expression falters, brow furrowing and stance grown defensive. “What?”
"Enoshima, I have lived a very short life," he says, voice raspy, "I have had everything dear to me taken away. My family, friends... It has brought me so much pain. In fact!" He steps forward, "So much pain that I am nearly numb to it! I suspected I would die alone, but the hope of my love with Kamukura is far too much for me to ignore for the rest of my pitiful life." He tilts his head, whispering, "You have pointed your bow at a man who already holds the arrow, Your Highness. I have nothing left to lose. If I shall die, it will be proud and filled with beautiful hope."
The woman is clearly confused, but the anger boiling to the surface of her skin began to show on her face. Her peach skin tints red and her fists tremble at her sides. “But it’s no fun if you just lay down and die....” Her voice is short and quick and the wind is loud in her ears; despite the initial fury she felt at his lack of a will to live, a twisted smile begins to stretch across her lips.
“You know what? Perhaps we’re both mad, then.” Enoshima laughs a bit, looking at the rubies on her finger. “Even though I’d rather you put up a fight, the idea of the despair everyone shall feel upon finding out what a joke you are is far more rewarding. Can you imagine how shocked and disgusted your people will be with you?” The Queen’s eyes sparkle with bloodlust and she approaches him again, staring him in the face. “If you really think this is such a cause to die for, then I won’t complain if you want to find yourself on the other end of my sword.”
"No, they hate me already. I have brought despair to my own land beyond your comprehension. Why do you think I asked for trade with Kamukura in the first place? My kingdom is starving." He snorts, "I hold steadfast to my belief that there is not a nobler cause to die for than love. Real love." He steps back and opens his arms.
"Kill me if you wish; I know Izuru would do the same for me." He says the given name like candy, eyes sparkling. " I'll lie down and die if it means you don't get the satisfaction of winning! "
The rollercoaster of emotion Enoshima had experienced since trapping the man outside was intense and confusing; his compliance had gone back to annoying her and her jaw was set, huffing through her nose.
“If I had a sword, I’d kill you right here.” She is spitting again, tapping her foot against the tiles. “I’d watch your fuckin’ blood spill and laugh at you at my feet.” She steps back, closing her eyes and recollecting her thoughts. She is silent for a moment, refusing to look at the man who taunted her across the stone pavers. Instead, she looks at the oak door, formulating how she would go about the entire situation.
“Rest assured, this night will end in your death.” Enoshima steps toward the door, crinkling her nose at him. “I won’t say when, though. Just to keep you on your toes.” Grasping the handle and pulling it outwards, she sneers at him one last time. “In the end, I’ll still win.” She waggles her fingers tauntingly. “ I’ll be the one who gets to spend my life with him, motherfucker.”
Leaving him at that, she shuts the door behind her, opting to return to the ballroom.
At the click of the door, he slumps, his arms dropping and his smile fading. The reality of what just happened catches up to him. He sealed his fate. He won't be alive to see tomorrow. It's oddly... thrilling. Komaeda may not be able to handle loud noises or crowds or, heaven forbid, a dinner with nobility , perish the thought... but he can handle death. It is an old friend of his that he has long awaited. It's peaceful, in a confusing way. Standing out in the gardens as the sky turns black and the stars replace the sun, knowing every breath is more important now than ever.
It is with that mentality that he straightens his coat, flattens his hair (as much as the wild thing will cooperate), and walks back to the door. Enoshima is long gone, and he makes a spectacle of strolling back into the ballroom with all the casualty of a man who, upon first glance, has an entire life ahead of him.
He hums to himself, the sound drowned out by the celebrations to everyone but himself. He wonders if it looks obvious that he has been crying and begging for his life? Perhaps he looks red in the eyes... not that anyone would care to notice.
He pauses, thinking, still standing on the edges of the crowd. One person would. He scans the hoard for soft pink hair, fine as silk and dainty as a flower. Nanami. He spots her carrying drinks and makes his way over to her, a small smile that he can no longer feel still plastered on his face.
Nanami was preoccupied, but upon the flash of pure white in the corner of her eye she turns her head, going to catch his eye to convey that she would be right over to him; however, once she sees that he is paled more so than usual and the swelling around his eyes, she stops immediately. Her mouth hangs open in concern, soft brows furrowed as she looks up at him. She has forgotten about the task she has been assigned.
“Your Highness, what is the matter?” Nanami’s voice is gentle, her tired eyes watery with worry. “I knew something had been wrong; I should have followed you, I am so sorry...”
"Nothing, nothing." Komaeda waves her off, shaking his head, "Do you have a drink? Wine? I would so love some wine." Smiling at the room, he looks at the wash of faces, humming, "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."
Her face exhibits her bewilderment, her sweet features scrunched in thought, but she is made aware of the tray in her arms and remembers what she had been doing.
“Y-Yes. Just one moment, Your Highness.” Nanami excuses herself and swiftly deals with the monarchs that had requested her aid, hurriedly pouring the first bottle she saw into a glass to bring back to him.
“Y-You did not request a specific kind, so I pray you do not mind Merlot.” The servant girl hands it over, wringing her hands a bit. “It is nightfall,” she states. It sounds as if she has more to say, but for the Prince’s safety, she lets the second half of her sentence fizzle out. She glances around the ballroom anxiously.
"Is it? I hadn't noticed." He asks, already knowing it had been. He tips back the glass, chugging it and nearly finishing it off. He looks back to Nanami, blinking, "Hm. I've always hated drinking. It is more of a social thing, for royalty, at least. You must keep a sharp mind to rule a kingdom, yes? Hah!" He sneers, finishing off the last bit.
"Oh, Nanami, could you perhaps send a message to His Highness the King? Tell him... tell him..." He laughs bitterly against a burning behind his eyes, "Ah, pardon me, I think I may just return to my quarters for the night. It was lovely to see you. You are quite an amazing girl, Nanami. Incredible and kind..." He nods and turns, waving with his glass as he steps away, "Do take care, won't you?"
Nanami, for what may be the very first time in her life, is stunned to silence. She had been the one to deliver the plan, so she knew for a fact that it was meant to happen tonight, and very, very soon. She had only been graced with Komaeda’s presence a handful of times, yet she knew the carelessness and pain that reflected in his eyes was entirely uncharacteristic of him; anxiety and concern bubbled up her throat, and she went to call out to him. However, she remembered their surroundings and could only manage a pitiful “but...” before her voice gave out and she was forced to watch him walk away from her.
Her gaze flicked around the room in desperate search for ebony hair. Despite the lateness, it was still incredibly busy, and she couldn’t find her King in sight.
The horrible feeling that rested in the pit of her stomach demanded that she find him, so she immediately began to actively search, boldly ignoring calls to her by other monarchs.