The Assaulted Royal

Chapter 6 ✿ Royally Stupid

I'm really really sorry for the long wait, guys. Life's been really hectic. In anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 6 ✿ Royally Stupid

The next morning, I woke up with my alarm clock screaming on my ears. I groaned in exasperation and slammed my hand over the end table beside my bed, completely—and accidentally—knocking the poor object off the table. As the crash resonated throughout the whole room, I cursed to myself and forced myself to sit up.

     I rubbed my forehead and breathed in deeply as I realized that I’ll be facing a new day once more. “Smile!” I stretched my cheeks as I effortlessly tried to encourage myself to be positive, but thinking of the things that I’ll be confronting made my stomach feel queasy.

     The things that happened until now were hard to believe. I yawned groggily before standing up from my bed. I then headed to the bathroom connected to my bedroom and took a bath to refresh myself. After that, I ventured downstairs and headed to the kitchen, only to find the prince working his way around the stove.

     Dumbfounded, I stopped at my tracks and stood there with my mouth hanging open. My eyes were probably as wide as saucers, but that’s not completely the point. Why was the prince who just recovered from fever standing there . . . in front of the stove, stirring a pot of what apparently smells like a mouth-watering breakfast?

     It took a whole minute for him to notice my presence. When he saw the stumped look on my face, he flashed a charming smile despite the bruises on his face and said, “I hope you don’t mind that I made myself home and decided to borrow your kitchen for a while.”

     “No . . .” I answered. “I don’t really mind but . . . might I remind you, Your Highness. You still aren’t fully well enough.” I stepped into the kitchen and began pushing him out to the living room. “If you wanted some breakfast, you should’ve woke me up and asked me to prepare something for you.”

     “But it’s just a simple bacon and egg soup. It’s not really a big deal.” He told me.

     “It is a big deal. What if you pass out or something? More trouble!” I stomped my feet like a child as I forced him to sit down on the loveseat.

     “But  I . . . didn’t want to bother you for trivial things.”

     “Seriously. It’ll be more bothersome if something bad happens to you. I don’t want to get my head cut off just because you died in my kitchen trying to get yourself something to eat. It makes me sound like a cruel lady.” I frowned at him as I pointed out the worst possible scenarios.

     He laughed. “Your choice of words is amusing.”

     “But it won’t be amusing if it really happens.”

     “Alright, you win. I won’t cook anymore. But it’s one of my past times, so I couldn’t resist the thought.” He reasoned.

     I then sighed and smacked my forehead. Without me knowing, I scolded a prince. Seriously, just doing this alone may send me to jail, nonetheless, kill me.

     “I’m sorry.” I whispered. “If I offended you in anyway . . .”

     “No, please. It’s my fault for making you worry. I know how much this is hard for you.” His face fell and a look of disappointment washed over his face.

     It made me feel bad for some reason . . . because his expression looked lonely and sad. “Do you really like cooking that much?”

      “Well . . . I did say I like doing it, and it’s the very least I can do to return a favor . . .”