Post by Guestie on May 18, 2011 21:11:30 GMT -8
Soft hands grasped the hard, vibrantly red book. His eyes attempted to focus on the words printed on the thick, textured page, but they couldn't. Frustration overwhelmed him. He swallowed, as if he was trying to force down something choking him. Hell, there might as well be something choking him. He rolled his head back, his head fell back onto the backing of the tall crimson chair he sat in. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at the grandiose ceiling of his bedchamber anymore. And as if his hands simply gave up, the book slid out of his hands and flew to the cold, hard ground with a thud. With a groan, his hands flew up to his head. His fingers ran through his raven-black hair swiftly, his hands falling to his sides, on the armrests. A long breath of frustration rushed out of his lungs.
"Why?"
His eyes flew open, and although black, they swirled with rage. His head jolted upright, his hands quickly turned to fists.
"Why did he let this happen? He is always to fucking perfect . . . he was going to go and make this happen."
Abruptly, he stands to his feet and kicks the chair down, so that its mahogany claws were facing upright. His legs heavily marched to the roaring flames of the fireplace. Just above the mantle was a letter, a letter written in nearly perfect handwriting. Too bad the man writing the letter was far from perfect. He just liked people to think so. It was as if he had the whole damn world tricked. It was as if he were the damn pied piper and he just looked beautiful, spoke beautifully, and everyone was just in love with him. He knew that father would forgive him immediately. There was always an excuse for him. He could get away with murder and father would simply pardon him.
Grasping the letter, he wadded it up. Groaning with continue frustration, he ripped the letter into pieces, quickly picking them up, though (his OCD disallowed him from being too messy). His eyes flew to the flames, and before the thought was even finished, he was throwing the shreds of paper into the blazing fireplace, which immediately consumed the fragments of the once-letter, turning them into nothing more than charred ash.
"Fuck you, Berlus. It is not my fault that you got caught kissing, but it looks like we will have to aid you."
Quickly rushing back to the overturned chair, he quickly sets it upright again. He couldn't bear to see it like that anymore. Within a few beats, he is seated in the chair, facing the flames, which at the this point were lapping the edges of the fireplace. The flames kept growing. His anger kept growing.
"Amelia?"
A beautiful woman rushed into the anteroom. Although not dressed as fabulously as the man calling for her, for she was a servant (he liked to call her his assistant), her natural beauty radiated over the uniform looking white dress she wore.
"Yes, your majesty?"
"You know I hate when address me that way."
"Sorr-"
"Don't apologize; it's fine. Just don't do it again."
The woman nodded lightly, her blonde curls bouncing.
"I need you to prepare my things. We are going to Regina early. We have to help brother. What's new?"
Whipping into his bechamber, she began to prepare for him, leaving him once again to himself, still smoldering with anger.
"I just hope that we can clean up this mess before the ball."
Prince Merrick rose from his seat, and sauntered out of his quarters, in search of his father, the King of Helios. He needed to tell father of his plans before he took flight. He would make sure that these plans actually went through. He would deliver, for his father, his mother, and his people. It was his obligation.
"Why?"
His eyes flew open, and although black, they swirled with rage. His head jolted upright, his hands quickly turned to fists.
"Why did he let this happen? He is always to fucking perfect . . . he was going to go and make this happen."
Abruptly, he stands to his feet and kicks the chair down, so that its mahogany claws were facing upright. His legs heavily marched to the roaring flames of the fireplace. Just above the mantle was a letter, a letter written in nearly perfect handwriting. Too bad the man writing the letter was far from perfect. He just liked people to think so. It was as if he had the whole damn world tricked. It was as if he were the damn pied piper and he just looked beautiful, spoke beautifully, and everyone was just in love with him. He knew that father would forgive him immediately. There was always an excuse for him. He could get away with murder and father would simply pardon him.
Grasping the letter, he wadded it up. Groaning with continue frustration, he ripped the letter into pieces, quickly picking them up, though (his OCD disallowed him from being too messy). His eyes flew to the flames, and before the thought was even finished, he was throwing the shreds of paper into the blazing fireplace, which immediately consumed the fragments of the once-letter, turning them into nothing more than charred ash.
"Fuck you, Berlus. It is not my fault that you got caught kissing, but it looks like we will have to aid you."
Quickly rushing back to the overturned chair, he quickly sets it upright again. He couldn't bear to see it like that anymore. Within a few beats, he is seated in the chair, facing the flames, which at the this point were lapping the edges of the fireplace. The flames kept growing. His anger kept growing.
"Amelia?"
A beautiful woman rushed into the anteroom. Although not dressed as fabulously as the man calling for her, for she was a servant (he liked to call her his assistant), her natural beauty radiated over the uniform looking white dress she wore.
"Yes, your majesty?"
"You know I hate when address me that way."
"Sorr-"
"Don't apologize; it's fine. Just don't do it again."
The woman nodded lightly, her blonde curls bouncing.
"I need you to prepare my things. We are going to Regina early. We have to help brother. What's new?"
Whipping into his bechamber, she began to prepare for him, leaving him once again to himself, still smoldering with anger.
"I just hope that we can clean up this mess before the ball."
Prince Merrick rose from his seat, and sauntered out of his quarters, in search of his father, the King of Helios. He needed to tell father of his plans before he took flight. He would make sure that these plans actually went through. He would deliver, for his father, his mother, and his people. It was his obligation.
