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Dark Moon Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 349. Bittersweet
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 17:53:43 +0000 UTCThird Arc (Fallen Heart) - 349. Bittersweet
Her thoughts inevitably returned to Angel. She could picture him at his desk, stubbornly pouring over the documents even after she had left. His relentless drive to ensure everything was perfect for her coronation was both endearing and frustrating. She admired his dedication, but she also wished he would allow himself a moment of rest.
‘I wish I could ease his burden more…’ Rose thought as she sank a little deeper into the warm bathwater. The faint glow of candlelight danced on the walls, casting fleeting shadows that mirrored the emotions flickering within her. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as her mind wandered back to how much had changed between her and Angel.
It was ironic, really. There had been a time when she had despised him, convinced that he was a tyrant. The rumors of his coldness, his ruthlessness, had painted him as a man without compassion, a conqueror who saw people as tools rather than lives to protect. She had believed them—every word, every whispered warning—and she had hated him for it.
But now… now she knew better. Those same qualities she had once thought were signs of cruelty were, in truth, born from necessity.
His coldness?
A shield forged from years of betrayal and loss.
His ruthlessness?
The actions of a man determined to protect his kingdom at all costs.
Once she had seen the truth, the walls she had built against him began to crumble. Now, all she wanted was to help him, to stand by him, to shoulder even a fraction he carried every day.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. Her bath had gone from relaxing to reflective, her thoughts tangling themselves into knots she couldn’t quite untie. She sat up, the water rippling softly as she began to clean herself, determined not to linger. Angel would need a bath too, and she wanted to make sure everything was ready for him when he returned.
Wrapping herself in a towel, Rose stepped out of the bath and quickly dried off. She reached for her nightgown and slipped into it. Pulling her hair over one shoulder, she stepped back into the main chamber and rang the bell for the maids.
It wasn’t long before two maids arrived, bowing respectfully. “Your Highness,” one of them greeted.
“I need the bathwater replaced and fresh towels prepared,” Rose instructed gently. “His Majesty will need to bathe when he returns.”
The maids nodded quickly and set to work. She watched them for a moment, her thoughts drifting again to Angel. The way he had smiled earlier, tired yet sincere. The way his eyes had softened when he spoke about wanting everything to be perfect for her coronation. He carried so much, and yet he still found ways to show her that she mattered to him.
Without realizing it, she glanced at the clock. More than half an hour had passed since she left his study. A frown crept onto her face as she realized he hadn’t returned. She had given him his time, but Angel had a habit of underestimating how quickly it passed when he was working.
Rose hesitated for a moment, then made her decision. Turning to one of the maids, she said, “When you’ve finished here, please prepare some light refreshments for His Majesty and bring them to the chamber.”
The maid bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Rose gave her a small smile before stepping out of the chamber. The castle corridors were quiet as she made her way back toward the study. The air was cooler here. Once she neared the study, she saw the servants and the food trolleys were gone.
She knocked gently on the study door and waited for a response. When none came, she furrowed her brows and knocked again, this time a little louder. “Angel?” she called softly, her voice laced with concern.
Still no response.
Pushing the door open cautiously, Rose stepped inside. The study was dim, the candles burned low, and Angel was still at his desk, leaning over the parchment with the quill in his hand. His hair fell slightly over his eyes, and his posture spoke of exhaustion, his broad shoulders stiff and tense. The room was quiet except for the faint scratching of the quill as it moved across the parchment.
“Angel?” Rose called softly, taking a step closer. Her voice broke through the stillness, and Angel froze mid-sentence. He looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, his mind still caught up in whatever he had been working on.
