Lines <Trash Of The Count's Family> [x Reader]

Tangent [Alberu C.]

"Your highness, the crown prince, the star of the kingdom—"

"Enough."

Alberu Crossman glared and cut Cale Henituse off. His glare was more intimidating than usual but it did not have any effect on Cale.

Their meeting proceeded as usual, and Alberu ended up hanging it once more, seeing as Cale would continue sucking up to him.

"Haaaaa"

He gave out a dejected sigh.

"This is driving me nuts."

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but the memories of his earlier meeting with the current king, his father, kept on bugging him.

'Marriage...'

He was to be married.

'I don't want to.'

But he didn't want to do so.

His tense body couldn't relax in the slightest bit. The terror of citizens, people in general, knowing about his heritage scares him.

A quarter dark elf, using magic to hide his true self, is who Alberu Crossman is.

He planned to not marry, and let one of his nephews become crown prince.

Then his thoughts drifted to his past love.

One true love, never forgotten, always treasured.

'Y/n..'

He layed down on his bed, and caressed his hand, a habit that came to be, whenever he thinks of her.

'L/n Y/n'

A human, with unparalleled beauty that doesn't pale in comparison to dragons. Her heart was like pure gold, as well. She had a majestic air around her. Warmth, warmer than the Sun God. Her pale white complexion was like a gift from the God of Death, as it glows within the darkness.

'A goddess.'

Each and every moment with her sents his heart fluttering, skipping a beat. His breathing becomes ragged. And his body shakes, ever so slightly. Every moment with her, her touch itself was surreal. A realistic but surreal dream. The ethereal beauty she holds wasn't only within the exterior, it is also her interior.

The soon-to-be-king smiled serenely, as if his tranquility will not be broken, any time soon. His twiched upwards lips were those of a wise man, reminiscing of a very precious memory.

The memoir she left behind was not materialistic, it was something not seen by others, for it was only his.

'Memory'

He had one chance, and he wasted it. So, now it is gone forever.

Tangent: Lines that had one chance to meet, then parted forever.