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𑁍̤ ❛ HAUNTING ―― LINGERS BEHIND . . .
𝘈 𝘚𝘔𝘌𝘓𝘓 𝘖𝘍 𝘚𝘐𝘓𝘒 *
a fanfiction based on a crossover between 'who made me a princess' and 'death is the only ending for the villainess' // tw : just in c...
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" YOUR HIGHNESS ? " penelope's soft voice wakes him , claude looks at her with hazy eyes , gently shaking his arm . he sighs , rubbing a hand down his face in a tired manner . she sat upright , leaning against the bedpost ; only then he realized , it was his bed , his room she was in . he rubs his nape , not saying anything , just sitting beside her in silence .
recollections from before come back to him . the ambush , him running to the first place his steps took him with her unconscious in his arms , the argument . he remembered her giving him that one distant smile , refusing to tell him why she decided to go to the battlefield herself ― and the man . of course he remembered the man , the man who had so daringly intruded within his palace , looming over his wife so confidently , saying something to her that had impacted her more than any of his words ever could .
he remembered those letters .
it was obvious the man was the same from the letters . her lover ― the thought alone made his stomach turn ; the thought of her pining over someone else , wanting someone else . what right does he have ? he was her husband in all but name , after all . he had promised himself to not fall for anyone after diana . then why ?
" about the ruckus earlier ― " penelope , who seemed uncomfortable with the silence for once , broke in . but he dismissed her statement , holding a hand up to cut her words short . she blinks , turquoise eyes flitting across his face like usual , like she was trying to read him .
he shifts in his place to face her , azure eyes unfaltering , gazing at her like he were seeing her for the first time . and in a way , he was , for he hadn't noticed the slight black spot beside her lips before . he hadn't noticed the specs of gold that ringed around her pupil and across her iris like a cobweb , or the slant of her thick eyelashes that basically curtained her eyes .
she was a vision , not in the manner that would inspire poets . but in a way which would leave you intrigued even if you caught a glance , the way which haunts your dreams for the rest of your days .
his hand rises ― cupping her jaw like he always did , uncharacteristically tender . he must have looked distressed , for she parts her lips , pausing before her question comes in a whisper " what's wrong , claude ? "
