*REWRITE CAN BE FOUND ON MY ACCOUNT, THIS VERSION IS DISCONTINUED
Adonis had been alive for an excruciatingly long time.
His heart shattered over and over as he watched those he loved constantly die, betray him, or simply disappear altogether.
Afte...
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Adonis
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
——- Finally, Adonis had no more meetings and it was time to see his favourite thing in the world.
The servants stopped their work and bowed as he made his way through, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he found the door leading to her room.
And there she was, his perfect Rosabelle. Lying on her stomach and drawing something on the floor.
"Now what did your nanny say about doing that, little one?" He asked with amusement, watching her head shoot up and eyes widen with excitement when she saw him.
"Addy!" She exclaimed, jumping up from the ground and flinging herself in his arms. He grabbed a hold of her and lifted her up, her arms coming around his neck.
"How is my precious petal?" He asked, placing a kiss onto her forehead.
"I spilled paint on the rug," she said, her red eyes meeting his blue. Her honesty made him smile.
"Oh, really?" He replied with amusement as he walked them to the large bed in the middle of the room, plopping her down before removing his cape so he could join her.
"Yeah, the maid was really mad," Rosabelle explained climbing onto his chest. "She yelled at me."
A cold anger chilled Adonis' veins; no one was allowed to yell at his precious petal.
"She thought you would be mad at me. Are you?"
Adonis snapped from his thoughts - he would deal with the maid later. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Rosabelle. "I could never be mad at you, precious."
She was perfect. Just seeing her breathe was enough to bring a smile to his face. There would be nothing that could bring him to anger when it came to her.
Or so he thought.
—- Fourteen years later...
The bird on her windowsill nuzzled into her palm as she stroked its soft feathers. It was a beautiful blue kind, although she didn't know the name. It came to her windowsill often, knowing it would be given food.
