Y/N is just a normal, peasant girl, so how did she end up in this place, serving under the King's cruel command? Well, it's simple, really. She just wants her family to be safe even if it means putting up with his insane personality, but how long wi...
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My lashes flutter gently against my skin as I release a moan of discomfort, my head pulsating like a heartbeat. I hiss at the pain and rub my tired eyes, the E/C optics burning for some reason. I have to squint to see as I look around, my vision slightly blurred, which thankfully, only lasted a few moments as the effects of sleep steadily wore off. I find myself not in the dormitories, like I was used to, but in my new room, which is quiet and calm. I can see the dark sky through the window, informing me that it is night. I heave a heavy sigh of relief as I lie back with a hand upon my head.
'It was only a nightmare. Thank goodness! I must've just fallen asleep,' I excuse, actually believing it until something cold and hard pressed against my face. I could feel my heart drop as I sit up again and turn on the nearest lamp to see. My breath caught in my throat the instant I laid eyes on that damn ring forcibly given to me by the King and cover my mouth, eyes watering as I shake my head in disbelief. "N- No... No it can't be real," I croak as I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my head. "They can't be dead. They just can't." My bottom lip quivers as my cheeks drown under the rivers of tears I shed. "I was supposed to save you. How could this happen?" I blamed myself, but not entirely. If it weren't for the damn king, I wouldn't even be in this mess.
'Why must he be so cruel? I thought I was doing so well.' My breathing turns ragged as I rip off the plush covers, feeling hot from my panic, and turn as red as fire upon seeing my attire. It is a nightgown, but not one I own, which certainly was not what I was wearing earlier.
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It is a simple, but soft, cotton material draped in sheer fabric with long, white sleeves and a neck that shows off my collarbone. Regardless of its comfiness, I'd like to know who exactly it was that dressed me while I was unconscious. I shudder at the thought of it possibly being his majesty's doing, but I highly doubt he'd bother himself with such a task even after what he pulled. The man doesn't even dress himself. More than likely, it was a female servant who did the job, but he still could've insisted on being in the room for it, which made my stomach feel sick. Filled with fury, I plant my feet on the floor and march towards the door with heated cheeks.
