His heart yearning, for him.

Page Two

The soft glimmer of warm sunlight peeked its way across Damien's bedroom, awakening the prince of his long needed slumber. He got up with a stretch to his cramped limbs, not bothering to change out of his night robes. He really did not have anywhere to be, so what would be the point of switching clothing? Damien sleeply strutted over to the window, his eyes following the soft breeze that blew across the tall wheat field.

A heavy blanket of fog lay beneath the castle wall bushes, creating an effect that resembled waterfall steam. The prince then exited his chamber, his head held high as he walked down the long, dark hallway of his personal tower. Down the long spiral staircase, the sounds of clitter and clutter from Damien's boots, reached his ears, creating an long echo. The soft coo of a bird sang it's little morning song, from afar, This, was going to be another treacherous day, of repeating a cycle of doing nothing while inside. Splendid.

Once Damien reached the main lounge of the castle, he took in the sight of it. The walls were a deep, dark cobble, all of them having bumps and tilts that Damien would occasionally run his hand across, just to feel the texture underneath the prints of his skin. Large pillars of an even darker marble withstanding, and reaching up to the ceiling. Long drapes of a satured red were bannered across the many walls, each having a unique fold at the end of the fabric.

In a small corner, was a decent size unlit fire place, two shelves of books surrounding the little area. A comfortable seat stood, tucked away near the cobbled bricks of the fire place, waiting to be used and sat on. Usually Damien would spend his entire day, evening, and noon there, but today, he wasn't certainly in the mood to do so.

His eyes shifted over to a massive platform in the middle of the room, decorated with luscious fabrics and jewels, was a dark velvet and even darker wood throne fitted for his father. Lucien wasn't sitting at his usual spot, reading and writing letters, so Damien assumed he was tasking away at his dull king duties in his own private common room. Next to the throne was a smaller one. It was the one that was specifically designed for him, but the prince hardly sat in it.

He would rest upon it, when special occasions would come. Well, that's what his father called them. It was typically Damien sitting around, while listening to the king blab on about wars, alliances, and what not to other rulers around the nearby land that surrounded their village and palace. He probably should've paid attention, in order to gain tips for when he ruled on once he turned 25. (Which would occur in 2 years.) But, Damien did just not care at all. He knew he would be a far more suited ruler than his father anyway.

The prince let out a huff of air, as he zoomed past the rest of the main lounge, and into the indoor greenhouse. Why did the castle have an indoor garden, when there was a whole lot of empty land outdoors, which would be able to stand a lush flower bed? Damien had demanded it of course. If he couldn't go outside, why not bring it in?

In the greenhouse, he very quickly spotted Christophe. His acquaintance, Damien had called him in his head, he most definitely wouldn't be anymore than that. The gardener gave a nod of acknowledgement, once the dark noirette entered the indoor garden. 

 "Ah, you seem to be more lively than usual, prince. I take it ze king has given you ze news ze previous night?" The heavy voice with an even heavier accent called out with an emotionless tone, as the gardener spread out a new layer of fresh manure.

There was that tingly feeling again, once Damien heard the gruff voice, that he had grown accustomed to along the long trench of the years.

The prince shifted over to where Christophe was crouching, lowering his height as well to be at a more equal level. "How do you even know about that? Did he tell you about it before me?" Damien questioned, his eyebrows furrowing. He squinted his eyes at the dirty brunette, pinching him at the side. "Tell me."

Christophe scoffed, grasping onto Damien's wrist, and moving it aside away from his torso. As he spoke, he planted in the little beads of flower seeds. He swiftly scooted the dirt over the top of the tiny poked in hole, while patting the dirt firmly after. "Well," the tanned brunette began, scooting his face closer to Damien's. His breath was warm, the linger of cigars prominent. "Ze king requested I go with you while we venture on our way there. It seems to me he knows how close we are, hm? Perhaps he wanted me to keep you.. company."

This earned an annoyed growl from the prince, as he clipped Christophe in the rib once again. The other shooting a nasty glare at him, as Christophe leaned away. "We are not close at all. I tolerate you, simply because I hate the other gardeners who work," Damien grumbled, beginning to idly pick at the little bunches of dirt crumbs that spilled out from the little fences of the flowerbeds. "Who else knows," the prince followed with another question soon after a moment of utter silence.

"Hm, I can't recall, but I believe that little nervous maid is also aware of your departure. I don't know why she also must come, but zat is not really my business to know." Damien wondered why Rebecca was coming along as well, did his father really think he was friends with them both? "Ugh, her brother must better not come. I cannot stand the sight of his unearthly appearances. I will hail him out of the palace if I am ever given the chance to."

Christophe simply rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Oh please, he insisted to stay, saying something about taking care of ze place. I believe he was too scared to go." That certainly brought up Damien's mood.

A few more fatuous words were thrown here and there, a full conversation not lasting longer than a moment or more. Once their interactions died out, and the only source of noise being the crunch of the soil, Damien promptly left the greenhouse. Still having no true plans for the day, (except for reading books, though Damien still did not feel like it) he stepped up the staircase of the tower that lead to his room, having the idea to simply lie all down.

The prince was the slightest appalled to see Rebecca, quickly yet smoothly, packing Damien's (few) belongings into a large leather case. The curly haired maid didn't seem to notice Damien yet, as she was moving around the room at a rapid pace, Damien's eyes not being able to follow properly. "Rebecca," he greeted, the maid stopping in her tracks, her head looking over at the prince. "Good day, prince, I-I was packing your belongings for t-this week's occasion."

Damien quirked a brow, his eyes narrowing. This week? He expected to be leaving later on in the month, as his father told him prior before, but next week? That was quite soon, but that meant Damien would be able to see the outside world quicker. He sat down on the large mattress of his bed, kicking off his boots, Rebecca scurrying to neatly set them in place. "You shall leave now, I'll be taking some rest, and I wish to have some peace."

Rebecca chewed on her lower lip, hesitating to speak. "A-Ah, but, prince, I must finish preparing.." The maid meekly mumbled, her hands neatly tucked in front. With a roll of his eyes, Damien shifted his position, his limbs stretched across his bed. "That does not matter at the moment, you may pack later, but at the moment I would like to lay."

With a small sigh, the maid nodded her head, "alright, prince. Have a good rest." Rebecca quietly left Damien's chamber, shutting the door behind her. The prince drawled out a sigh himself, his eyelids fluttering shut. As he began to fall into the cozy and familiar embrace of slumber, his thoughts scattered, pelting inside of his mind as if they were stray raindrops.

What if he did fall in love?

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uhhh will post another chapter this month, since I forgot to do one the previous time 😛😛