The princess is quiet as she moves down the hallway, her footsteps not making a single echo despite the huge and empty space. I follow behind her, also making sure to stay as silent as possible.
Though we have a new and much safer plan, something about Elena's intrusive thoughts worries me. Seven months of knowing her, and I would have never suspected she'd be angry enough to want to kill the prince.
But I'm liking this new side of her, no matter how crazy it may seem. Since the very moment I met her, I knew she was a strong-willed soul. I knew she was not one to be messed with, and I thought I could control her.
I've never been more wrong in my entire life.
She's been the one in control for the most part—she's been the one making all the calls. Being a queen is in her nature. She's intelligent enough to make wise decisions, and she doesn't let people step all over her.
That will always be one of the biggest reasons why I fell for her. I've finally met someone who keeps me on my toes, and that alone is the reason I'm still breathing. Still talking. Still alive. Because of her.
We both turn a sharp corner, and just to the right is the location of King Victor's study. It should have all the files we need on Marco—both good and bad. Hopefully, there will be something we can use to blackmail him so he leaves us alone. Better yet, we could use something to get him imprisoned.
"This is it," Princess Elena whispers, motioning to the door of the king's study. "It shouldn't take me long to search through the files for something on Marco. Just keep on the lookout for anyone."
I nod in agreement and watch as Elena tries the handle carefully. To my surprise, the door seems to open quite easily, revealing a well-lit room filled with books and papers scattered on the large wooden desk.
The princess slips inside while I move to the threshold of the door, examining the corridors carefully with narrowed eyes. When I'm absolutely positive that there's no threat, I close the door behind us and take a stance against the wall to listen for any possible outside noises.
The silence in the study is almost deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of paper as Elena turns the pages of the various documents spread out before her. She seems to be deeply focused on her task, her eyes scanning the pages with a practiced speed-reading efficiency.
I observe her intently, admiring her sheer determination and focus. Despite the danger of our mission—despite the potential consequences of being caught—the princess is dead set on seeing it through to the end. It's a side of her that I've seen many times, and it's another reason why I find her incredibly attractive.
It almost physically pains me to stay away from her, but I know I have to. We can't be happy until Prince Marco is gone from our lives. Otherwise, I would be putting Elena at risk.
No matter how selfish I want to be, I won't put myself before her.
My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden gasp coming from Elena. I immediately turn my head towards her, a knot forming in my stomach at the sight of the horrified expression on her face.
"What is it? What's wrong?" I whisper, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible even though my body is on full alert now and my heart is pounding in my chest.
The princess doesn't answer me right away; instead, she slowly reaches out her hand to the desk, her fingers tracing over a thick file in front of her. When she finally does speak, her voice comes out breathless and uneven. "There's something you need to see," she says hesitantly, her eyes glued to the folder.
Frowning in confusion, I move closer to the desk, curious to see what has Elena so shaken up. When I make it to her side, I lean over to look at the file she's pointing to. My heart sinks into my stomach at the sight of a photograph resting within the pages.
My father, of all people.
And under his photograph is the name in bold letters: JEREMY WEST.
"That man," I mutter, my tone filled with shock and resentment. "That man is my father. What the hell is he doing with that bastard's photograph? I don't even know my own father."
A frustrated sigh escapes my lips as I glance at the photograph again. My father isn't a pretty sight to look at. His gaunt face is full of anger and bitterness, and his eyes are dark with hate. There's no denying his resemblance to the Jeremy West I once loathed. He'd been dead to me the second he sold me off and abandoned my mother.
Just when I thought my mind couldn't get any more blown, though, the princess hits me with another bomb. "I've seen this man before," she murmurs, her hands flipping quickly through even more files. "I've seen him with Marco."
My mouth falls open in shock. The news that my father is somehow connected to Prince Marco sends a ripple of unease throughout my body. "Show me," I demand, grabbing the file from Elena's hands.
I need to see this for myself.
The princess nods, her attention shifting as she flicks through a few more pages. "Here," she says, handing me another file with a photograph resting in the front.
Immediately, I recognize the dark, brooding figure in the picture. It's the man who identifies himself as my mother's sperm donor, and beside him is none other than Prince Marco. The image is blurred, as if it's been taken at a distance, but there's no denying the similarity in the men's appearance.
"They look like they're working together," Elena explains, leaning in to point at a few notes scribbled on the page underneath the photo. "It seems like the prince and your father have been involved in some shady business."
Her words hit me deeply as I examine the photograph closely. My father, the man who turned my life upside down and left my family in shambles, is somehow linked to Marco. It's a revelation that's difficult to process, and I find myself feeling overwhelmed with a mix of anger and grief.
The picture looks relatively new considering Marco looks the same, and my father looks older than he was the last time I saw him. Prince Marco is gesturing animatedly with one hand, while Jeremy is leaning back slightly—his arms folded across his chest—and they appear to be having a discussion of some sort in their ominous black suits.
The image is grainy and slightly out of focus, as if it was taken from a great distance. It seems like the photographer were trying to capture the meeting from a hidden location. Despite the low quality, however, there's no doubt that it's Marco and that asshole caught in the picture.
The look on Jeremy's face is serious and reserved, as if he's conducting business of some sort. He stands with his back straight and his chin raised slightly. In contrast, Marco appears relaxed and almost smug, his lips curving into a half-smile as if he's amused by something being proposed.
"What the hell?" I utter quietly under my breath, my hands slamming on the wood as I try to make sense of it all. "Why would he be in cahoots with such a twisted individual? You know what? Why am I even surprised?"
The princess turns her head to meet my gaze, noticing my troubled expression. With a sympathetic look, her hands move up my chest, playing slightly with my tie. "Alex," she mumbles in a hushed, soft tone. "Are you alright?"
No.
I reluctantly twist my body to face away from her, swallowing down the urge to completely unravel under her touch. "I'm fine," I reply, my voice tight as my hands shake with emotion.
"But you're not," the princess counters, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit. "I know you well enough to know when you're lying, so don't try to hide from me, Alex. It's okay to not be alright."
Her words are like a punch in the gut, and I suck in sharply at the truth in them. "I'm furious," I respond, not able to look her in the eye. "I spent my entire life wondering why my father was so willing to sacrifice his family for money. And after being haunted by that fact for years, I finally let him go. Only to find out he's seemingly working with the man who is currently making my life hell?"
Elena inches closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her embrace is comforting, and I find myself leaning into her, my body wanting to be as close to her as possible. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a mere susurration.
I breathe in deeply, taking in her scent—a mixture of vanilla and strawberries, like always. It's sweet, just like the princess, and I want nothing more than for her to hold me, to keep me, to protect me. I'm so alone, so broken, and her touch is the only warmth I've felt in god knows how long.
But I feel like a broken toy.
Pulling away, I continue to torture myself. The longer I go without her, the more I want to break down. But I can't. Not just for my sake, but for her own as well.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to center myself, I quickly turn back to the portfolios, my eyes skimming over several documents until I come across a folder marked MARCO DE ROSSI.
I immediately flip it open, eager to see what kind of dirt we can use on him. The first document that catches my eye is a list of his past infractions, dating all the way back to his youth—everything from petty theft to bribery.
Just as I'm about to take a closer look, though, I hear a strange sound coming from the door of the study. It's a soft, rustling sound, as if someone's clothing is brushing against the wall. My heart skips a beat, and I quickly whip my head around to face the door.
Shit.
"Someone's coming," I whisper urgently to the princess, my hand immediately moving to my hip for my knife. "We need to get out of here."
The princess, always quick-witted and thinking on her feet, already has a plan in place. "Don't worry, Alex," she mumbles gently, not wanting to draw any attention to our location. "I know what to do."
I glance at her questioningly, a sense of unease growing in my chest. "What do you mean?" I prompt quietly, not liking the sound of us being caught at all.
"Just do exactly as I say," Elena responds calmly, motioning toward the closet on the right side of the door. "Hide there, but keep watch."
I nod, taking a deep breath as I do so. I trust the princess completely when it comes to being stealthy—she's an expert in mischief and mayhem. But the thought of being caught still sends a shiver down my spine, especially now that we are on a mission to save our lives.
Quickly, I make my way over to the wardrobe. It's an ordinary, wooden, and tall one, meaning that I should fit perfectly inside. When I step in, though, the space does admittedly feel a tad cramped.
Suddenly, the knob on the door to the study rattles. And before I know it, the double doors are flying open. Through the creak of the wardrobe, I spot Marco walking in and immediately looking at the princess, who is casually sitting down at her father's desk.
The sound of the prince's voice has narrowed my eyes. "Mi amore," Marco begins tauntingly, "what exactly are you doing here in your father's study? A little princess like you shouldn't be messing with all of these documents."
"Little princess?" Elena retorts. "Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you referred to me as a little princess? Because I'd be happy to do so again if it makes you learn your lesson."
Marco's lips curl into a mocking grin, and he slowly circles the desk until he's mere inches from the princess. "Oh, my apologies," he mocks in a condescending tone. "I didn't know that a mere woman needed to be reminded of the fact that she's powerless in our world."
Elena's eyes narrow as she stands up from her chair to face the prince on equal footing. "Powerless?" she scoffs. "Funny—you of all people shouldn't be talking. You want to take the power I have. My throne."
Marco's expression turns from playful to frustrated as he steps away from the princess, his hands moving up and down his chest as if to remind her of his rank. "You may not be powerless," he mumbles darkly, "but you are a woman. And women, unlike men, are subject to weakness."
The prince's eyes fall on the desk, where one of the folders with his name on it is lying open. As soon as he spots the document, he strides over to it, snatching the thick papers with a sense of urgency.
Elena tries to stop him, but he moves faster than she can react. "Leave it alone," she insists, her tone firm and serious. "That's not for you."
The prince ignores her, his eyes fixed on the pages. "You shouldn't be reading these," he snaps, his voice low. "You have no purpose in being here at all. In my world, women are nothing but accessories. And that is all you'll ever be—a pretty little bauble that I can flaunt around to all of my friends."
However, the princess doesn't back down or respond to his derogatory remark; her voice rises in anger instead. "Give that to me," she demands, reaching out for the folder.
With a flick of his fingers, he shuts the folder, sliding it under his arm. I'm forced to watch as he turns to face the princess, a twisted smile on his face. "Or what? You'll yell at me again? Twist my arm, perhaps? You know, no one is here to save you," he replies, his tone dry and mocking.
If only he knew.
Watching as Marco continues to belittle her, my mind races, waiting to see how she will defend herself. While I want to do my job and save her from that asshole prince, she told me to do exactly as she says. And I take her orders.
Elena isn't easily intimidated. With a sudden motion, she throws herself at the prince, trying to grab the folder from under his arm. The two of them struggle for control as the desk shakes vigorously.
Marco is caught off-guard, clearly surprised at the princess's quick response and strength—or perhaps he thought that this would be too easy. He holds the folder away from her, his face flushing as he pushes her away. His expression turns cold and serious as he regards Elena with cold, calculating eyes.
He leans forward, his face inches away from hers. "Let's get one thing straight: I own you," he spits venomously, "and if you dare to disobey my orders, I will not hesitate to harm you. If you run, I will hunt you. I will find you. And I will end you."
"Wow." The princess laughs—a cruel and jeering laugh that captures my attention. "Soon to be king, and yet, you're still as dull as ever," she barbs, snapping her fingers next.
For some reason, I know exactly what she needs with her snap. Finally unsheathing my knife, I swiftly step out of the wardrobe, coming up behind Marco and gripping his neck. The tip of the blade is pressed against his throat, and I hear a slight choking sound come out of him.
The prince thrashes against me, his hands clawing at my arms to try to get the knife away from him, but it's no use. My grip is firm. "What is this?" he gasps.
"Here's what's going to happen," Elena starts, her tone devoid of any sympathy. "You're going to give me the file without any trouble, and I'll let you go. If you fail, Alex will take great pleasure in ending your life."
Her piercing gaze holds no mercy or compassion, only a blinding, toxic fire that is both unsettling and alluring at the same time. She's a woman gone mad, consumed by her emotions and desires, and her every action reflects that.
It's the type of insanity that makes me shiver with excitement.
Marco's eyes widen at her venomous display, and his face twists in outrage. He starts to laugh, the sound of it cutting through the air like a sword. "You fucking bitch," he chokes out, his voice breaking. "You can't kill me. The people will get suspicious."
His argument only gets an eye-roll from the princess, who doesn't seem fazed whatsoever. "You think I haven't thought this through?" she asks, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm not a fool. My plans are solid. It's just that your time is up, Marco."
The prince falters, staring at the blade in my fingers and the cold, calculated look on Elena's face. He doesn't dare say anything, instead focusing on keeping calm and collected. But his fear seeps through his expression, and I see it in his eyes.
He is no longer the all-powerful prince—in fact, he has just been reduced to a prisoner caught in our web. It's a moment of catharsis for me to see him so utterly humiliated and helpless in the hands of the princess.
I can feel her satisfaction radiating around her like a heat source as she continues to glare at Marco, the tension so thick in the air that it's almost physical.
"Give me the folder," she commands again, her voice low and dangerous.
The prince's eyes flutter closed as he lets out a deep breath, the muscles in his face visibly relaxing. It looks like he's come to the realization that fighting against us is futile. He's not going to win this one.
"Fine," he whispers at last, opening his eyes to regard Elena again. "Here." With one abrupt movement, he shoves the thick folder into her hands.
The princess immediately holds it tight to her chest, her eyes flickering from the folder to me to the blade at his neck. She waits a moment longer to make sure Marco is going to stay still before gesturing for me to let him go, and so I release him.
"Now leave," Elena demands firmly, her voice no longer filled with satisfaction. It's now just cold and determined. "And if I find out you blabbed off to anybody, I will use whatever is in this file against you."
Marco's lips curl into a snarl, but he knows that his words mean nothing at this point. He turns to leave, his arms crossed across his chest with rage and frustration.
But Elena's not done yet. She waits until he reaches the doorway—until he's just within reach—before holding the documents out toward him. "And one more thing," she begins coldly.
He turns back around, a hint of confusion and fear crossing his features.
She storms forward and doesn't give him a chance to even think before her knee is driven hard into his groin, the force sending him to the ground. Marco cries out, his face twisting in pain as he clutches at his crotch.
"That," the princess spits out with malice, "was for being a dick."
I can't help but let out a soft, satisfied chuckle at her words. The prince writhes on the floor, pain etched into his entire body. But even now, the princess isn't done with him. As one last final move, she steps over his leg with her heel, earning a yelp from him.
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
No words are spoken as I follow the princess down the corridors. She's fast on her feet, hurrying to her room like she means business, and I trail behind without a single complaint. Just like I was trained to do.
When we reach her chambers, I close the door behind us to ensure we have privacy. She flops onto her plush bed, wasting no time in finding leverage to use against the prince. Her fingers fly over the pages, and her eyes dart from side to side quickly as she takes in the information.
But all of a sudden, her eyebrows raised and her hands came to a halt. She looks up from the file, shock and realization written clearly on her features.
"Holy shit."
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・
authors note: hi loves. if you aren't informed about the palestine/israel situation, please do look up posts and spread awareness for palestine. to see what's happening over there and all the innocent people suffering is heartbreaking. you may not think it's much, but even just reposting something is enough to make a difference.