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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Panic shot through my body as I broke into a cold sweat, squeezing the sheets within my fists. My mind was racing between images, trapping me inside a dreadful nightmare of recent events: those heads, those horrifying expressions they bore, the King's dreadful smirk and bloody sword. The deceased chanted horrible things, blaming me for their deaths, calling me a curse. All the while, his majesty watched with glee on his throne, his laughter ringing in my ears amongst the shouting. I scream apologizes, but they do not accept them, and then, it stopped.
Everything faded away, and I became aware of the wetness on my cheeks along with some movement involving my hair. I didn't think anything about it at first, as I was still calming down from the nightmare, but I subconsciously smiled at the feeling, since it was helping to relax me. It wasn't until I realized the impossibility of Weston twirling strands of my hair that my eyes snapped open. The E/C optics flick over to the figure on my left, and through my slightly blurred vision, I could make out the form of the King sitting at my bedside, dressed like he was prepared for an outing.
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In a mix of shock and fear, I scream and roll off the bed, falling straight to the floor with a thud. I hiss through my teeth and, without thinking, slip out a curse.
"Shit!"
"Good morning to you as well, darling." The man chuckles, leaning over to look down at me. I grit my teeth and put a hand on my shoulder, which felt sore from the fall. "I never knew you had such a foul tongue. My, how you amuse me, farm girl." I tense up as he slides off the mattress and crawl back as he approaches, still clutching my throbbing shoulder.
"Oh, dear, did you hurt yourself? You must be more careful." He reaches a hand out, causing me to flinch and shut my eyes. I wasn't prepared for gentle fingers to caress my shoulder. "My apologies. It was not my intention to send you rolling off the bed," he says, seeming sincere, much to my confusion. I'm, then, taken by the hand and am brought to my feet.
