ᴡᴍᴍᴀᴘ: ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ

First love? Only love.

When Ijekiel Alpheus, only heir to the Alpheus Dukedom, laid eyes on Athanasia de Alger Obelia, he fell in love.

Head over heels, he thought nothing of it when he visited the palace more often under the guise of work. His shoes making no sound as he wandered the halls, pretending to be lost when a guard happens upon him, and he catches a glimpse of blonde hair disappearing behind a pillar. 

Unknowingly, his pace speeds up, and as he rounds the corner he spots her- and his majesty.

Ijekiel's breath stopped at the sight of the emperor towering over her slight frame, and despite his best efforts to face this fear, this fear that has his legs trembling. He hides. 

His back to the wall at first, then he slowly peeks out, muting the sound of his breathing as his golden eyes blink. 

The thick air filled with tension makes cold sweat slide down his nape, and he wants to adjust his tie, but any small sound could alert them to his presence. A word, then two, and a quiet voice mumbling answers back, it didn't even resemble a conversation one was having with their parent, but more like a terrified subordinate with their higher up, he observed. 

But still- he couldn't, shouldn't move.

He watches as his majesty's hand drops down, and with tremendous force no less, the glorious sun of the Obelian Empire that had saved them from the grasp of the tyrant, slaps his daughter.

Ijekiel's hands ball into fists, unmoving behind the wall, but his nails dig into his palms, just the barest of skin before he could draw blood. Her highness staggers in place, and his majesty looks down at her crumpled form on the floor, and a cold voice enters Ijekiel's ears- his majesty's voice. 

"Get back to the Ruby Palace before anyone sees your disgraceful state." 

Then with a swish of his mantle, the badges on his uniform sparkling under the sunlight, his majesty leaves the princess on the floor. As if she were nothing but a pest in his eyes, as if his majesty didn't even see her as a relative of any kind- but why? 

Why didn't his majesty care for her highness like he did with Jennette?

Jennette, who his majesty didn't even know existed before the debutante? Ijekiel's eyes shut as he paled at the memory of him and his father bringing Jennette to her highness's debutante. How he had seen her form scrunching up at the way everyone pushed her away at the day everyone was supposed to remember her. 

How her eyes had shook, how she had hidden herself behind one of the many pillars, and how he couldn't even bring up the courage to ask her for a dance- all because he had to dance with Jennette. Lovely Jennette. The lovely princess of his majesty. 

Oh, how he loathed having to be in her very presence.

All alone there, on the floor- unbefitting of a princess of her stature, her rank. A wretched picture as her shoulders heave up and down in silent sobs, her hands wiping away at tears that Ijekiel couldn't see from where he stood, and he watches as she braces herself against the pillar and her slender form collapses.

Ijekiel moved before he could think, moved before he could understand his heart, and moved to catch her highness- this sorrowful, yet breathtaking flower that was hidden away from high society- as she fainted. 

His arm catches her before she could hit the floor once more, and in another breath, his other arm had slipped underneath the backs of her knees and lifted her up into the air.

He can barely breathe as he moves quickly, not wanting anyone to catch them in such a position, for what if they found a way to pin the blame on her highness? It was highly likely, given the fact even her blood-related father, the emperor of this land, doesn't give her the face to lend her his backing.