30 days of writing challenge. drabbles for the untitled novel thing.
hundred years, hundred more someday we may see a woman king, wristwatch time slowing as she goes to sleep.
Their eyes meet when she lifts herself from her curtsey. He stands in front of her then and she doesn’t expect that. She thought he would keep a distance from common folk. His blood is more noble than hers. His appearance boasts his greatness, his wealth, his power. His horses remains behind him, reins held by a younger boy who looks almost terrified of the harmless animal that barely moves, only blinks its large eyes and watches its rider.
“You are not what I expected.” He states once she stands properly.
Even with her legs straightened and her shoulders back, even with her chin up high - he towers over her by a head. Beside her, her sister squeezes her hand. Though she doesn’t speak, she knows what her older sister would say: don’t do anything stupid.
She just might.
His eyes fall and rise, from her feet to her eyes then back again. His stare makes her feel vulnerable. She almost, almost, almost steps back.
“Am I disappointing?” She asks, almost timid but mostly offended.
“No, my lady.” He sounds emotionless, so emotionless that she wonders if he would react if she kicked him right then, but that would have been uncalled for. It was likely that his beloved guards who have dragged her away immediately afterwards and drowned her in the river. Leda would understand, as she sometimes did, but the rest would consider her an idiot if they didn’t already. “You are radiant.”
“You are a liar. I am covered in dirt and blood and then there is you, in your clean armour and cloak.” She scoffs, stepping away. “You are the radiant one.”
That is not how you address the prince.
It doesn’t matter. He will not be the one sitting on the throne.