𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓?

𝙍𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

[𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩]

not sure if i made this clear but it was the hundred-year war they had ended 2 chapters ago. which meansss...

An exhausted sigh pasts your lips; a dreadful look in your eyes that not even your makeup could mask.

You look yourself in the mirror as many thoughts, negative, thoughts cloud your mind viciously. They were like a hurricane up in that neat head of yours.

You had been in your room for the majority of the day preparing for the big function tonight. The King of Midland's function.

The old man invited the band expectedly as you all, under Griffith's leadership, defeated the believed "impossible."

Simply, you weren't as excited as you'd usually be about these certain occasions and honestly, you knew why. You'd grow mental if you ignored your feelings longer than you needed to.

You weren't truly happy like you believed yourself to be. And, for the first time, it was another that you had blamed.

I'm your despair, you want to cry but also don't want to redo your makeup.

You don't want to wear the powdery products but don't want to give anyone the chance to see the real you.

You don't want to go anywhere but you don't want to let anyone down. Not even him.

You didn't know why.

Was it love?

Pity?

You shake your head and purse your lips tightly. Your tears fall anyway.

"Stop..." you scold yourself for being so fragile.

All this because of a man. A man who, despite his high intelligence, probably wouldn't understand you anyway.

"Who would?" your own voice sounds foreign in the quiet room. It was full of loneliness.

You felt imprisoned in the clouds of his desires. Soft they were, yet so unwilling to let you free and roam further skies. They darken as time goes on, consuming all his dark secrets and mischievous ways. But, oblivious was something you were not.

Moving to lie down on your bed, you recall what took place last night.

Even during your lightly intoxicated state, you could see what had encouraged his terrible way of proving his love for you.

And, it wasn't the wine nor the recapture of Doldrey.

If you could, you would have taken back that frightening experience if you knew you'd regret it immediately after.

You play with your pink gown, your dress for tonight hanging up on your door. Then, there was a knock.

You sit up quickly and make sure your blushed cheeks were not ruined with stubborn tears.

"Co-"

You try again, "Come in."

In walks Casca with her dress in her hands. Her eyes never meet yours and her lips frown. "Um, F-f/n.."

You laugh out softly, already understanding what she had come for. "You need help?"

She only nods.

"Alright, I'll help you but you owe me one."

—

Casca watches as you work on her face through the mirror for a simple, natural look. You weren't an expert with makeup but foolishly liked to pretend you were.