It's early in the morning, and I haven't gotten much sleep. I didn't get to drink coffee earlier, so it's no surprise that I'm exhausted. I don't want to go to sleep, though. Whenever my eyes close, the end result is always a nightmare.
Instead, I wait outside the princess's door. It might be 7 AM, but she usually starts getting ready this early. To my surprise, the handmaid doesn't come around at all, but maybe she just woke up earlier than I did.
The door suddenly shoots open, and the princess yanks me inside with all of her strength. Then, she pushes me back against the door so that it closes, and my eyebrows lift in surprise. Elena releases her grip on me and steps back, pacing the room frantically.
If I'm being honest, I don't know whether to feel threatened or turned on. "Princess?" I say cautiously, observing her rather erratic behavior.
"I need you to help me pick out what to wear for the ball today," she blurts out, a hyper-energetic look in her blue-green eyes.
Seriously?
My body relaxes itself once I realize she's fine and she's really just worried about looking good—something she should never even think about because she always looks absolutely gorgeous. "And why me? You have a handmaid for a reason."
Elena sighs exasperatedly, her back turned to me, as she walks to her king-sized bed and goes through a pile of dresses. "Her name is Sofia," the princess clarifies, "and she isn't here today."
With my hands in the pockets of my suit jacket, I lean back comfortably against the door and examine her. "You have other maids," I remind her. "Besides, I don't know anything about dresses."
The princess turns around with a frown on her face. "Those other servants don't give a shit about me. Sofia is the only one who actually cares for me. Everyone else just follows what my father or even Marco says."
She seems truly stressed without her handmaid—to the point where it's making me feel guilty. And as always, I finally give in. "Alright, show me the options," I sigh.
Her eyes light up gratefully, and there's a smile at last on that beautiful face of hers. She continues to sort through the pile of dresses until she eventually holds up two of them for me to see.
The first dress she holds up is an elegant off-the-shoulder gown in midnight black with intricate lace trimming around the bodice and skirt. The long sleeves are fitted at the forearm and flare out at the wrist.
The second dress is a gorgeous silk gown. It is made of a shimmering ruby-red material that is embellished with a delicate lace overlay, which adds a touch of elegance and refinement to the entire ensemble. The top of the dress has a plunging neckline, and the bottom of the dress has a slit up the side.
Elena spins the other way to put them back on the bed with a distressed exhale. "Which dress should I wear?" she asks, her body stiff compared to its usual gracefulness.
Coming up behind her, I start to massage her shoulders gently to relieve her tension and stress. "The one that's easiest for me to take off," I utter softly in her ear.
Her natural vanilla scent fills my nostrils, and I can't help but want more. My nose is buried in the crook of her neck while my lips nip hungrily at her skin, but not hard enough to leave a hickey.
Yet.
The princess softens at my touch, but at the realization of what I'm intending to do, she quickly pulls away and turns to face me. "Stop distracting me. I need you to choose a dress."
There's a long pause between the two of us as I look at her closely and analyze her outfits. The silk ruby-red dress definitely caught my eye. It's an elaborate look, but it's simple enough to not overshadow Elena's natural beauty.
The midnight black dress is also lovely, but it's a bit too flashy for the princess's taste. I can imagine her feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious in the dress, constantly checking to make sure she looks perfect in it. She deserves to enjoy herself tonight, not spend it worrying about her appearance.
"You should wear the red silk dress," I tell her with a subtle nod. "It's perfect for your taste and style."
The princess appears to be relieved by my decision, smiling at me before reaching for the aforementioned dress. "Thank you, Alex," she replies politely, seeming genuinely thankful for my help.
As she picks up the dress, I notice how delicate it is. I could see the fabric ripping between my fingers if I weren't careful. Not wanting to ruin the gown, I hold Elena's hands gently, guiding her on how to put it on without damaging it. I want to be as gentle as possible with her. She's like an ethereal flower that I don't want to see die.
I let go of the dress when I catch sight of her glare, though. "Alex," she complains. "I'm not completely helpless. I can dress myself."
A small smile breaks out onto my lips—something that only happens whenever I'm around her. She's my source of happiness. "You're absolutely right, Princess. I'll be here if you need anything."
With that, I turn around out of respect and allow her to get changed into the ruby-red gown by herself. I can hear the rustling of fabric behind me, and even though a small part of me yearns to see her beautiful body, now is not the time.
"Alex?" the princess calls out after a few moments, causing me to turn around. The first thing I'm met with is her bare back, and my heart pounds at an ungodly speed. "Can you zip this dress up for me?"
"Of course," I reply evenly, my eyes glued to the naked curves of her back. It takes all of my willpower to not just pick her up and ravage her.
I walk over to her, noticing how tight the gown is. It's clinging to her skin, showcasing her beautiful curves. I have to fight the urge to run my hands over her soft skin.
God, she's perfect.
Princess Elena stands still as my fingers brush over her supple skin, the dress closing, and the smooth zipper running up her back. When I'm done, I release my fingers from the zipper, and she turns around.
Our eyes meet, mine filled with lust and hers with something I don't recognize. "Thank you," she whispers breathlessly, her skin flushed. "You're free to go now."
Nodding in response, I take my leave and close her door behind me as I step out into the hallway to give her space to get ready. Once she's out of sight, I regain my professionalism and composure. She's the only one who brings out the other side of me that I hide from everyone else.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
Later in the afternoon, I find myself escorting my princess to the annual charity ball meant to raise funds for the unfortunate people of Italy. Many influential citizens are here among the crowd of reporters and photographers waiting to get a big scoop on all of the important people here.
The ball is held at a stunning opera house in central Rome. The building's exterior is a beautiful mix of classical and modern architecture, and it stands out among the surrounding cityscape. The grand entrance to the venue is adorned with golden sculptures of famous Italian icons, making for a true display of wealth and luxury.
Inside, the hall is filled with the sounds of classical musical performances and the chatter of high society. The room is a feast for the eyes, with stunning chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, intricate mosaic floors, and elegant sculptures gracing the walls. The atmosphere is alive with excitement, and the air is filled with the clinking of glasses as guests indulge in champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
The dress code for the evening is formal, with many of the attendees clad in extravagant gowns, tuxedoes, or fancy suits. Princess Elena is no exception, wearing her striking ruby-red gown that perfectly complements her radiant complexion. Her hair is styled in a vintage-inspired updo, and her jewelry glimmers in the artificial light.
"Mi amore," an aggravatingly familiar voice calls out from behind, breaking my moment of reveling in the greatness of the venue. "I'm very glad you could make it."
Both the princess and I spin around to face Prince Marco, whose words are as insincere as his smile. Marco is a man of many faces—he's predictable in an unpredictable way. Right now, he's playing the role of a prince with class, which couldn't be further from the real him.
"I'm only here because I have to be," the princess mumbles bitterly, clearly as annoyed as I am by the prince's presence.
Elena turns to me, and as soon as we make eye contact, her emotions shift from irritated to something much more. The corners of her lips twitch upward in a slight smile, and her eyes darken with a familiar glint. It's that same look she gives me whenever we're alone together behind these closed doors.
She wants to be with me tonight. She wants to forget about the ball and instead focus on us, and I do too.
"Well then, I'll make sure you don't feel alone tonight," Marco returns charmingly, interrupting the silence as his hand moves to rest on the small of Elena's back, leading her away by her waist.
I want to grab him and throw him into the nearest fountain.
The princess gives me a lingering glance before she's led out into the unending crowd of people, and when I feel that her grasp on me has finally been released, I let out the breath I've been holding and lean back against the wall. I want to save her from the life she has to live—to bring her to a place where she can be free to choose her own path.
But I can't.
She's a princess—she's expected to be like this.
She's not supposed to be mine.
In a way, I'm just as trapped as she is. If I try to steal her away from Marco, the consequences could be disastrous. I could be executed, and Elena would have her reputation dragged through the mud.
What kind of man would I be if I put my own desires before her safety?
So instead, I force myself to keep my eyes on her as she dances with Marco. I want so badly to look away, but no matter how much it hurts me, I must never let her out of my sight. Even if the way Marco's arms are wrapped around her possessively and the way he's whispering in her ear makes my blood boil.
The only thing providing me with a sense of comfort is the fact that Elena's gaze never wavers from me, no matter what. My eyes never falter from here either, feeling trapped in those wondrous blue-green eyes of hers.
As the night wears on, the princess and I continue our game of pretend, both acting oblivious to each other's longing glances. Her lips curl into a slight smile again as she dances with Marco near me, and I feel like I'll melt into a puddle on the floor.
But despite my aching heart, I can't help but marvel at the way she moves and how elegance radiates from her every step. She twirls around the dance floor, her dress spinning in a flurry of red silk. Her silent laugh ripples through the room, and it's like music to my ears. She isn't letting Marco's presence keep her from having a good time, and I'm proud of her for that.
Just when I think I can't take anymore, she finally comes over to me, and it's like all the air has been sucked out of the room. She reaches out a delicate hand, and for a brief moment, I think she's about to take mine, but instead, she brushes her fingertips along my chin. Her touch is electric, sending shivers up my spine.
"Would you like to dance?" she whispers in my ear, her body grazing mine.
My heart skips a beat, and I nearly forget how to breathe. "I do," I admit, feeling my cheeks heat up at the confession. "But we both know we can't do anything here."
A small, almost imperceptible nod is her only response, but I know she understands. We don't have to have a conversation to know that we can never be together in public. It's like a secret pact between us—one that we both hate but can't escape.
"Let's forget about all of this," she says, gesturing to the crowd around us. "Just for tonight, I only want to be with you."
For a split moment, my mind races with the possibilities of what could happen if we slipped away together. But I quickly shut down those thoughts, knowing that such ideas could result in a terrible ending.
"I wish that was possible," I say with a sigh, but I can see the sadness in her eyes, the disappointment that I won't give into our desires.
She opens her mouth to tell me something more, but I catch a glimpse of the king walking in our direction. I step away from her swiftly, keeping my distance so that he doesn't suspect anything.
"Elena," the king begins, stopping in front of us. "Your presence has been requested at the secret dinner," he says, his voice low so that the civilians around him don't hear.
Secret dinner?
The princess lifts an eyebrow. "I thought I wasn't allowed to intend that," she states simply, disguising her true feelings, but I can see right through her. She clearly just doesn't want to go, and I wonder why.
"Don't act like a child, Elena," the king scolds, his patience for his daughter wearing thin. "This is a very important event, and your attendance is a priority."
The princess's jaw clenches slightly, but she bites her tongue. I know she wants to fight back—to express how unfair it is that her every move is controlled by her family. But she can't—not without facing severe consequences.
Elena's lips curve in a forced smile, visibly resigned to going. "Of course, father," she replies, the words biting, but without the usual harshness that characterizes their arguments.
The king nods, satisfied, before moving on. He seems more interested in whatever is happening on the other side of the ballroom, and so he leaves without caring about his daughter's feelings or what he's putting her through.
"He's so controlling," Elena mumbles to me, her eyes never leaving the king as we walk into the hallway. "Always telling me where to go and who to talk to. Can't he just let me live my life? I'm not even a child anymore, yet he treats me like one."
I put an arm around her shoulders once we're alone, offering comfort, and she leans into me, her hand finding mine. "Are you alright?" I ask quietly.
She shakes her head. "I just can't stand it anymore. I feel like I'm suffocating in this life. Is this really what my future is going to be? Going to dinners and events where no one wants to be, just for the sake of political appearances?"
Her voice cracks as she speaks, and I can feel her trembling. It kills me to see her like this—to know that there's nothing I can do to change the situation. "What can I do?" I inquire, feeling helpless. "I wish I could fix all of this, but I don't know what to do."
Princess Elena leans into me, letting out a deep sigh. "Just having you here is enough. Knowing that I have someone who cares about me is keeping me alive—that's enough for me."
I squeeze her hand tightly, not knowing what to say. This isn't fair to either of us. We shouldn't have to live like this, always hiding our feelings from everyone else. We should be able to be together out in the open.
While we wander around the corridors of the opera house to reach our destination, I decide to break the silence that has built up by asking the princess a question. "So, what's this secret dinner about?"
Elena lets out a deep sigh. "It's a meeting with some of the most influential people in Italy," she answers finally, her eyes not meeting mine. "We're supposedly discussing the political state of the country and where it's headed."
My head inclines, taking in her words. "Sounds important," I say, though I'm not sure how I feel about it.
It's clear that the politics of Italy aren't something that the princess is passionate about, and yet she's being forced to attend the dinner because of her upcoming position as queen.
As we walk, I can't help but wonder what it must be like to be in Elena's shoes. To have such little control over one's own life, to be forced to attend events like this without even wanting to be there in the first place.
I don't know how she does it—but then again, I guess she doesn't have much of a choice.
We arrive at a set of double doors, and that is where I finally take my hands off her. I move my arm away from her shoulders and step back from her, giving her the appropriate amount of space to walk in.
Once we're inside, it feels like we crossed the Rubicon—there's no turning back from here. The dining room is luxurious, with white granite floors, ornate gold-leafed walls, and a ceiling painted with intricately detailed frescos of goddesses and mythological figures. The room is dimly lit by a large chandelier, which casts a soft glow on everything below.
The room is also empty except for a long table at the center, where a few men in suits are already seated. The princess makes her way over to join them, taking her place at the table. I take my place against the wall, but one of the men suddenly gestures to me.
"Come, sit," the man, looking to be middle-aged with some bald patches, says. "Make yourself comfortable here—we don't bite."
The way he talks in an almost condescending way doesn't sit right with me—in fact, it makes me want to punch him in the face and show him who he's talking to—but I ignore my feelings and take a seat next to the princess.
Instead of eating the food on their plates, the men skip to talking in hushed voices, their heads bent close together in conspiratorial whispers. The mood is tense, and I know that they're discussing something important—likely related to politics or national security.
Despite the serious topic of their conversation, it's obvious that the men feel uncomfortable in each other's presence. Each of them is trying to assert their dominance over the others, with each sentence they utter dripping with hidden agendas or underlying threats. I can't help but think how toxic this kind of environment must be for the princess, who's forced to be here despite her lack of interest in politics.
Elena is quiet and reserved during their discussion, her attention flitting from one man to another, but she doesn't say anything. She knows that this isn't her place to speak, and I can't help but think how frustrated she must feel, having to be here in this room full of men who hold all the power while she has none.
After what seems like an eternity of quiet speculation, the men's voices rise in intensity as they begin to argue. Their conversation starts to devolve into shouting, with each man trying to make himself heard over the others. This only serves to make things worse, with the tension in the air growing thicker by the second. It feels like the room is about to explode into violence.
Elena's eyes dart around the room, searching desperately for an escape from the chaos. She looks like a trapped animal, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. My instinct to comfort her kicks in, and my hand moves to her thigh under the table to keep her relaxed.
The middle-aged man who had been inviting me earlier is a whole different person now. He's no better than the rest of them; his wrinkled face is turning beet red as he gets more enraged by the minute.
This whole argument between people who are supposed to have much more class than this is annoying me, and at this point, I couldn't care less about what they have to say. My leg starts to bounce up and down impatiently as a sudden urge to be with the princess alone eats at my soul.
I notice Elena's eyes dart under the table, and it doesn't surprise me that she is quick to notice my uneasiness. "What's wrong?" she murmurs quietly—almost to the point where I can't hear her at all due to these animals squealing about pointless shit.
I sigh, running a finger up and down her mid-thigh. "Nothing," I reply, wanting to change the topic. "Can we just skip this dinner thing? I have a much more urgent matter."
Her brow arches in confusion, and her head tilts to the side slightly. "Like what?" she questions, her soft hand traveling on top of mine and stopping its movement.
I bite my lip, squeezing the area where my hand is resting. "Like getting you in bed," I whisper impatiently, my tone as sincere as the stern look on my face.
The princess's eyes widen, and her cheeks flush a faint shade of pink. She quickly looks around the room to make sure no one has heard my comment, but from the looks of their heated discussion, no one has noticed. Even so, she's not willing to take any chances, and her expression quickly turns into one of concern.
She leans closer to me, lowering her voice even more. "As tempting as that sounds," she starts, "we're in the middle of a crucial meeting—we can't just leave."
Deep down, I know she's right, so I push away my craving for her. "It's more of a screaming match than a meeting, but I guess you have a point," I mutter in a half-sarcastic, half-disappointed way.
With a frown, she rubs her temples. "I haven't even been able to get a word in," she sighs. "I feel like they won't listen to what I have to say—like my opinion doesn't matter to them."
Sympathy shoots through me, as I was once in a situation like that. She just needs to face her fears and speak freely. I know she's capable of it because I've seen her do it before, but to be fair, this meeting is much more important than those other times.
"Elena," I begin in a serious tone, "you are the future fucking queen. Make them hear you," I whisper back to her reassuringly while the men at the table continue to squabble like children.
The princess looks at me for a moment, her beautiful eyes shining with a hint of determination. Then she straightens up in her chair and takes a deep breath. "You really think I can do it?" she asks hesitantly.
"I know you can do it. The only one who isn't convinced is you, Princess. Believe in yourself," I advise her, squeezing her hand as an extra measure of comforting her.
The shouting between the men reaches a crescendo—some of them even rising from their seats—before the princess finally gains confidence, stands up, and raises her voice over the others. "Enough!" she exclaims, her powerful voice ringing across the room.
And, just like that, the men fall silent. Everyone seated at the table turns their heads to look at Princess Elena, allowing her to speak. The corners of my mouth tick upward subtly at the sight.
That's my princess.
She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself, before she speaks again. "I apologize for that display of unsavory behavior," she says politely, her voice carefully measured. "We are all here to have a civil discussion. Let's not let our emotions get the best of us."
The princess's words seem to have a calming effect, and the tension in the room begins to ease. The people who had stood up to yell at each other sit back down in their seats and resume their conversations, albeit in a toned-down manner.
Elena looks relieved, and a smile creeps up on her face again. She turns to me, her eyes glistening with thankfulness. "Thanks for being here," she mumbles, her gaze meeting mine when she sits back down.
"Of course," I answer simply, holding her hand under the table again.
She faces the men now, this time sounding more confident in herself. "As I'm sure you all know, this meeting's purpose is to discuss the state of our country. There are a few key issues we need to address—especially the growing poverty rates."
The men stay quiet and let the princess continue, and she lays out the key topics that need to be addressed: the growing refugee crisis, the economic downturn, and the ongoing corruption in the Italian government and royal family.
I listen to her avidly. After all, I could listen to her voice for years and never grow tired. The more she talks, the stronger I feel that Italy will be safe in her hands—not Marco's.
She really is a true queen.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・
authors note: don't get me wrong i'm GOING to finish this story but i have this other story i wanna write and UUGHHHFFGKKMT i wanna start it already 😓