Protect The Crown✔ | Editing | Rewriting | NaNo22

Forty Four

~happy reading!~

Songs:
Arms by Christina Perri.
The Most Beautiful Boy by The Irrepressibles.

••

The term had finally come to an end.

It was goodbye to teachers and their love for tests and hello to a long overdue summer where the weather, albeit cool, was just perfect enough for anyone to spend a day —or days— on the beach.

Or so Madison had said numerous times in an attempt to get me to leave the palace.

Ever since we vacated, about a week ago, everyone had made it nearly impossible for me to forget the number of days I'd spent in the house, not 'enjoying' the glorious sun and all it's scorching benefits.

"It's summer break, Brooklyn, you need to step out!"
 
On any other day, I'd have been more than happy —ecstatic even— about the holiday and the sun and jumping into a freezing body of water. Any other day. But today, sat on the edge of what used to be my bed, with my things already packed and waiting, the good memories I'd made here on replay, I felt an overwhelming sadness at the reality of it all, sadness at my reality.

Today, I would finally be leaving.

Today, the Royal Family would finally know peace.

Well, I would. Or could. I wasn't so sure about his parents though —they'd probably be on the edge of their seats, knowing a potential threat (me) was still very much at large.

Or maybe, just maybe, they would rest easy, sending a hitman after me the second I step out their doors.

It's what I'd wanted, right? To leave and never return? Figuratively or not?

Yet why —could someone please explain to me— did I feel this way? Why wasn't I over the moon about finally getting what I wanted? Why wasn't I joyous? Why couldn't I be joyous?

Because you gave in. You gave up. You didn't fight. You didn't even try.

I let out a tired sigh. To an extent, my subconscious was right. I had given up. I hadn't even bothered to try. Not when I was dealing with a higher power. Not when Wils stood at the center.

The question remains: did I regret it?

The answer was a big fat no.

As long as Wilhelm was out of the public eye and would be for the next one or two years, giving up was fine by me. My leaving had already caused enough problems and emotional turmoil as it was —and he didn't need any more.

After our little 'discussion' the other day, the next thing we'd —reluctantly— done was call that uncompromising mother of his, offering her a deal she couldn't —wouldn't dare refuse.

A deal that made me feel as though I was being paid off. So said my loaded 'all the allowance you owe her' account.

Just as my phone chimed with a message from Madison, informing me that she'd just gotten the airport, a knock sounded on my door and seconds later, a head poked in.

"Hey. Cab's here."

"Okay, thanks."

When he saw I wasn't about standing up anytime soon, he stepped in fully, shutting the door behind him.

"Second thoughts?" he asked as he walked up to me, planting himself on the space to my left and taking my hand in his. I shook my head no. "Then what's wrong, Leeny-weeny?"