The soft rays of moning sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows of Prince Davis chambers, casting golden streaks across the polished mable floor. Another beautiful day, and I stood at the entrance, cradling the folded royal robe in my arms, its deep crimson fabric heavy with the weight of authority. The faint murmurs of the prince's servants drifted through the quite as they worked to secure the intricate details of his attire, layer after layer of silks and fitted leather.
Davis, ever composed, stood tall in the center of the room, his expression calm but distant. The like of his jaw was taut and I knew without asking that something weighed heavily on his mind.
"Linda Linda" his voice cut through the soft hum of the room as his gaze settled on me. He noded towards the servants.
"Leave us"
The servants exchanged glances before bowing deeply and filling out in silence, the door clicking shut behind them. For a moment the only sound was the faint rusle of the robe in my hands as I approached him.
He didn't speak as I unfolded the garment, but the air between us felt charged, like a string pulled too tight. As I stepped closer I hesitated, caught in the gravity of his presence. I had been close to Prince Davis countless times, but moment like this, so unguarded and quiet, always managed to unsettle me in ways I refuse to admit even to myself.
When I finally moved to drape the robe over his shoulders, his hands gently caught mine, stopping me mid-motion.
"Linda Linda or should I just call you, Miss Berl" He called again, softly, his voice low and gentle, like the whisper of an oncoming storm. His eyes found mine, their intesity making my breath itch.
"How's the training? The horse riding, the evening readings... Tell me you're making progress?" Davis began, his gaze steady on my reflection in the tall mirror.
As I adjusted the collar of his royal coat, my fingers brushed the fine fabric, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath. "Progress is a polite word, Your Highness," I murmured. "I'm surviving."
A faint smirk curved his lips. "Surviving isn't enough. You'll be standing by my side when the time comes. I need you more than halfway ready."
Need?
The word lodged in my chest like a spark.
"You speak as if a week can turn a street rat into a lady of court," I said, stepping back from him but he pulled me back firmly, the faint command in his voice softening into something more curious, almost hungry for truth.
"Then tell me, Linda Linda... how is it that a street rat reads better than half my council?" so he heard, perhaps is filled with updates.
His eyes searched my face, steady, expectant. I froze for a heartbeat, the question stirring a place I rarely let anyone touch. My gaze faltered; I turned away.
"It's not a story worth telling," I murmured, voice low, trembling between pride and pain. But Davis took a step closer, refusing to let the distance hide me. His tone gentled, though his presence filled the space, commanding, relentless, drawing me to face what I'd spent years burying.
"You can tell me anything," he said, and when he smiled, it wasn't the practiced smile of a prince, it was the rare one that stripped the distance between us.
Something in my chest loosened. The room seemed to shrink until it was only him and the warmth that his nearness carried. My breath caught, the words I meant to say dissolving on my tongue. That smile... steady, unguarded, unraveled every wall I'd built.
"I used to sleep outside the old library gates. The keeper had a kind heart..... or maybe he pitied me. He'd toss out torn pages every night, and I'd piece them together by lantern light. Words... were my only hope"
Prince Davis studies me for a long moment, his jaw tightening.... not from anger, but from something else he can't afford to feel.
"You've done well then. But you'll need more than words soon. The systems you're learning..... the politics, the alliances..... I need you to understand them well. I'm running out of time."
"What do you mean?"I questioned, my mind stilled.
Davis turns away, voice low
"War is coming!"
"War!?" My breath caught by suprise. I watched his shoulders tighten, saw the weight of leadership bending him. The sight made my chest tighten too.
"what do you mean war is coming?"
Silence.
"I'm not ready to go to war with you!" I finally said, though my throat felt tight around the words. "Perhaps you should have chosen someone else for this role."
My voice shook, and I hated that it did. But gods, I was tired, tired of trying to become someone I wasn't born to be. My hands still ached from the reins, my head still rang with the endless lessons, the foreign words, the names and the history of alliances I could barely pronounce. Every day was another test, another reminder that I didn't belong in this world, except beside him.
"No. It has to be you Linda. You're the only one I can trust."
Trust? I flinched slightly, not from his tone but from the lies in it. For a heartbeat, the air hums between us.... his restraint, my confusion.
"but Davis.... you say you trust me yet we've barely been in the same room?..." I began
"I had to interrupt your dressing today just to see you..... You speak of trust but no closure? How am I supposed to serve you if you keep closing doors for me? How am I supposed to serve you from far?... " I swallowed, the ache that came with pouring my heart out.
"your higness, are you avoiding me.." I questioned him unsure of his answer, little do I want him to admit.
"Linda.."
"I haven't seen you for more than a week, Davis." The words came out sharper than I intended, trembling at the edges.
"It's like you've kept me busy on purpose.... days of training, nights of reading until the candles die. I couldn't reach you even if I wanted to..." I swallowed hard, my voice faltering.
"You know everything is a lot for me. You knew I wanted to talk to you... you knew I needed someone. You know you're the only one who could listen..... I've called for you, Davis. God knows I've cursed those damned rules."
My breath hitched. Every word tasted of exhaustion and want, like I was bleeding through every syllable. He stood there, silent, watching me with those eyes that always seemed to see everything and yet reveal nothing.
He didn't move closer, didn't interrupt, just looked, and in that look, I saw something shift. A faint flicker, almost admiration... or envy. Because I could say what he never could. Because I could burn and break open, while he stood there, bound by duty and silence.
He didn't answer right away, and that silence made it worse. Because part of me wanted him to understand, and part of me already knew he wouldn't.
"Those rules keep us alive, Linda."
"Those rules also keep us... empty.....Davis"
I hesitated, then moved nearer again, close enough to catch the faint scent of steel and cedar clinging to him. My fingers brushed the edge of his coat as if adjusting it once more... but really, I was steadying myself.
I took a half step back, breath trembling as the memory clawed its way up, that forbidden night. The way his lips had found mine, unplanned, desperate, like a man slipping out of his armor for the first time. His touch had been fire, his breath a promise he never spoke aloud.
Since then, I've never known which Davis would face me ... the one who steadied me when the Queen's guards dragged me before judgment, his hands trembling as he commanded them to release me... or the one who would pass me in the hall the next day, silent as if I were a stranger unworthy of breath.
He breaks me and mends me all in the same heartbeat. The more he pushes me away, the closer he pulls me without even knowing it. His cruelty feels like protection, his distance like longing in disguise, and I can't decide which wounds me more.
One night, after I'd called for him and never came, I sat by the window and cried until the candles died. I told myself I hated him, his silence, his control, his damned rules. But when I finally saw him again, today, I let myself remember who he truly was to the world, I'd have to accept that I could never have him. And I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
Above all that, one thing remained clear.... he was a Prince. Yet somehow, I always forgot that. To the world, he is a heir to a crown, a symbol of power and lineage. But to me... he was simply the man who had once promised to protect me when no one else would.
When I look at him, I don't see the golden thread of royalty or the weight of a thousand expectations. I see the man beneath the crown, the one whose voice softened only when he spoke my name. Linda Linda.
And maybe that was my greatest mistake... or my deepest devotion. I had stripped away his titles in my heart and left only him. I wanted to keep seeing him that way... not as a prince the kingdom demanded, but as the man who once cared, who still cared even at times when he pretended not to.
"You're crying, Linda!" he spoke, his voice low, trembling slightly, as though caught between worry and restraint
"Why do you care!" I demanded, my voice cracking through the silence, heavy with tears I couldn't hold back.
"I don't!" he shot back, too quickly , the kind of answer meant more to convince himself than me.
"Caring... caring makes people weak," he added, his voice faltering near the end. "I'm not!"
But he stopped. The words broke in his throat, the mask slipping for a heartbeat. I saw it , the hurt he tried to bury, the storm behind his eyes that betrayed everything his tongue refused to admit. And for a moment, the space between us felt heavier than truth itself.
"you're lying!"
My patience thinned like a fraying thread. Every word, every interruption struck a spark against the dry timber of my restraint. My jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as my breath grew sharper, measured, forced. The muscles in my neck tensed, and my hands curled slightly at my sides, a silent battle to keep control. A flush crept up my throat, not from embarrassment, but from the heat of anger I was barely holding back. When He finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, but edged like a blade ready to draw
"I am the future King of this Kingdom" Davis said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the weight behind his words.
"I have duties, responsibilities... things far greater than what you think this is." He paused, searching my face as though hoping I would understand without him having to explain.
"I suppose there have been... misunderstandings," he added, his tone tightening.
"So forgive me if I don't find your little games entertaining. Forgive me...." his voice faltered for a heartbeat, softer now.
".... that I pity you enough to let myself close sometimes when I shouldn't have."
"pity!"
The words struck me like a slap. My face went still, breath catching in disbelief. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, eyes wide, glistening not only from tears but from the storm rising behind them. He turned, as if the distance between them could silence what he'd just broken.
He wanted to leave, his coat brushing past me like a wall closing in. Something inside me snapped. My hand moved before my mind did, fingers curling around his sleeve, pulling him back.
"Don't deny it...." I whispered. The word trembled, but it carried every ounce of the storm I felt.
He froze, his back still to me. I saw the tension in his shoulders,the same battle I felt raging in my own chest
My fingers tightened around his sleeve, as if letting go meant surrendering everything I hadn't yet said. He turned to look at me, My eyes met his,hurt, defiance, and something unspoken burning there. For the first time, Davis couldn't find the words to shield himself.
"Don't you feel it too?... here..." I whispered, pressing his arm against my chest, feeling the rapid, uneven thrum of my heartbeat. My chest heaved slightly, my breath catching as I searched his eyes for any sign he truly understood, any crack in the walls he always built around himself.
He froze, the tension in his body radiating outward, every inch rigid as though he were bracing against something he could not control. His jaw tightened, and I could see the flicker of conflict behind his composed exterior.
"Linda, please... stop," he begged, removing his hand from my chest to catching my shoulders with a strength that both held me back and tethered me to him. His eyes searched mine, wide with concern, betraying the storm he worked so hard to hide.
"Tell me, please," I whispered, desperation shaking my voice. "Tell me you feel it too!"
"I don't, okay! can you stop now" he blurted out, a sharp edge in his words, but the tremor in his hands, the way his jaw clenched, revealed everything he refused to admit.
"Liar! Liar!" I cried, my hands pounding against his chest, needing him to feel the truth I could not contain. The pounding echoed my heart, my fury, my fear of losing him, or of never having him at all.
He stiffened under my assault, his hands catching mine, trying to stop me, but his eyes, his eyes, betrayed the ache he hid. I saw it in the quick inhale, the sharp beat of his pulse beneath my fists, the faint tremor in his lips. He was denying it, yes, but he could not erase the pull between us, the tether that drew him as helplessly toward me as I was toward him.
Then, slowly, almost unbearably, he stopped me. His arms wrapped around me, not harshly, but with a careful tenderness that made my heart falter. I felt the tension in his body, the way he tried to hold back, tried to keep himself contained, but I felt it too: the unspoken, suppressed longing, the battle waging inside him as he clung to me.
I pressed against him, not to break him but because I needed him to know, everything I could not say, everything I had been holding back, all the fire of my heart. And for a moment, neither denial nor fury mattered. There was only the ache between us, the desperate tether that neither of us could fully release.
"I don't want to be here!" I cried.
He was still holding me when I said it , his arms around me, his fingers gently weaving through my hair in a way that made my heart forget how to beat. His touch was meant to calm me, but it only set everything inside me trembling.
"But I am," I whispered, my voice barely steady. "Because of how you make me feel... since the first time I saw you, I felt safe with you..... now I find myself tied to your ambitions, to your words. My strength, my endurance .... they come from you. From knowing that you're here Davis."
I felt his breath shift against my temple, the faint tension in his chest where my hand rested.
"So the more you push me away, the more I want you," I breathed. "I don't care.... I just want you, Davis."
He swallowed, I felt it, the subtle quake that ran through him. His hold faltered for a moment, his fingers stilling in my hair. That single heartbeat of silence between us was louder than any words. I could feel his conflict in the way he breathed, uneven, restrained, as though my confession had struck something he'd spent years trying to bury.
"Linda... please don't! you shouldn't do this..... you shouldn't want me" he murmured against my hair. His voice was low, rough, and fragile , not commanding, not princely , just human. He wanted to let me go, I could feel it in the tightening of his arms, the hesitation in his touch. But he didn't. Not yet.
"I love you, Davis... I do... I love you" I whispered against his ear, my breath trembling as the words escaped me , fragile, unplanned, yet truer than anything I'd ever said. My hands found his face, warm beneath my palms, and held him there, as though keeping him still might keep him mine, even for a heartbeat longer.
His eyes met mine , startled, wounded, searching. Those words seemed to strike something deep within him, something he had buried beneath the armor of his composure. For a fleeting instant, the Prince was gone, and all I saw was a man caught between desire and denial, between wanting and fearing what wanting could destroy.
Then, before I could think, I leaned in. The space between us shattered, lips met lips, desperation colliding with restraint. I kissed him first, with the recklessness of someone who had already lost too much, who didn't care, and he responded with a sudden, aching force. His hands caught my waist, steadying me as if the world itself had tilted, pressing me back against the cold wall. The air between us burned, hearts racing faster than reason.
Every brush of his lips sent shivers through me, every careful, heated press of his hands spoke of the quiet devotion he usually kept buried. My fingers tangled in his hair, and I felt it, his surrender, tiny and terrifying, beneath the mask of control he always wore. It was like touching the man he never let anyone see, and it made my own heart ache with love I couldn't contain. I love this man, first sight, first love.
He responded to every pull, every lean, every desperate whisper of mine. His lips moved over mine with a care that felt almost sacred, as if he were memorizing me with each kiss. I felt his breath hitch, his body tense then relax under mine, as though he wanted to hold me, protect me, and yet feared the weight of his own desire.
I let myself fall completely into him, letting go of every barrier, every doubt. In his arms, I felt not just wanted, but seen, cherished, guarded, taken care of. And in that moment, I didn't care about rules, or positions, or titles. There was only us: raw, tender, devoted. I could feel the pulse of his heart, steadying mine, and for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to simply be... in him, with him, surrendered to a love that burned too bright to hide.
And just as the moment deepened, just when I thought he'd let himself fall, he pulled away.
"You... you shouldn't have done that" he breathed, voice rough, as though the words themselves cut him open. For a second, his touch lingered, trembling, then he let go completely, stepping back into the shell I'd just broken through.
"You... let... me" I answered him.
His eyes hardened. The warmth was gone. The Prince was back.
"You don't get to do this to me every time you want to!..... you don't get to throw yourself to me and expect something in return.... " he snapped, the anger in his tone barely masking the ache beneath. "You don't..... the next time you do this again...."
"Then what, Davis huh?" I whispered, tears threatening again. "The next time... what?"
He didn't answer. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.
"Don't push my buttons.... this can not happen again" he finally said, his voice controlled now, cold, steady, commanding.
"The place I kept you is where I want you to be. So focus on your trainings. Quit with these stupid games and distractions. I won't see you until you're done... until you're ready. Is that clear?"
And before I could say anything, before I could even breathe, he turned and walked away, leaving me there, trembling in the ruins of everything I'd just confessed.
I have never loved, neither did he, I don't know. Perhaps we both don't know what love is, or perhaps we do, but only in fleeting glimpses we never named. It is a tremor in the chest that refuses logic, a warmth that invades the corners of thought, a pull so fierce it both frightens and enthralls. It is discovering someone's presence is more vital than air, that silence without them echoes louder than any noise. It is the sudden ache of vulnerability, the courage of wanting, and the terror of admitting it, to oneself, and to them.
Love for the first time is both a storm and a whisper: chaotic, consuming, yet impossibly delicate. It is the strange sensation of being tethered to someone who doesn't yet know the power they hold over your heart, and the aching, quiet wonder that maybe, just maybe, they feel it too.
Everything snapped into focus, and I could feel the fire inside me roiling like a storm. The ache of rejection no longer wounded me... it fueled me, sharpened me, made me alive in ways I hadn't known. His distance, his coldness, his restraint... they no longer weakened me. They dared me to rise.
If the prince thought I would settle for being a shadow at his side, a mere servant to his crown, he was wrong. I would not be contained. I would not be overlooked. My heart, once trembling with longing, had hardened into resolve. Every silence, every glance he withheld, every wall he built only stoked the blaze of my ambition.
I wanted more than to belong here. I wanted to matter. I wanted him to see me, not as someone convenient, not as someone to admire from afar, but as the one whose name would be inseparable from his. If his crown was all he cared for, I would make him care for me. If he would not reach for me willingly, I would climb, claw, fight my way to him.
Being his queen... if that is what it takes for him to finally see me, I would embrace it, body and soul. I would bear every storm, scale every wall, endure every trial. My love had transformed into purpose, my desire into strategy. I would claim him, claim my place beside him, and nothing... not his pride, not his restraint, not the weight of his crown... nothing would stop me. I am relentless. I am unstoppable. And I will make him see me, in every way that mattered.