05-05-2016, 02:44 PM
Cerva was exhausted and yet didn’t remember her eyes closing last night. The plush bed and comforter enveloped her, cradling her into a dream world that brought her back home. Mother and father were there, as was Alayna and the stable owner. What happened, however, she cannot recall when her eyes open to the sound of an opening door and voices. ”Get up, get up!” One woman shouts above all the others. With a groan, Cerva covers her face with the blankets only to have them ripped off her, her body exposed to the chill of the morning. ”What’s going on?” Her eyes will themselves to open and to see the group of women surrounding her.< i>”You’re going to meet your betrothed today so I suggest you get out of bed this instant! We have a lot of work to do!” Stifling a yawn the girl sits up in bed and rests her feet on the cool marble floor. ”I’m sorry, who are you?” Her long, brown locks fall around her face as she tilts her head curiously. I’m Elizabeth. I’m your head housemaid.” Her voice softens before she pulls Cerva out of the bed to begin working. During their conversation another maid rolled in the tables of morning pastries and breakfast.
”Eat up quickly then the fun can begin,” Elizabeth smiles before turning to speak with the other housemaids while Cerva hungrily eats. When she looks over her shoulder she sees Cerva with a mouth full of food with crumbs and jelly around her mouth. ”Oh, heaven’s child! You need some manners if you’re going to be with our Prince!” She rushes over to clean up Cerva, lecturing her and primping her.< b>”I’m just really hungry. I’ve never seen so much food in my life!” Elizabeth tilts her head and quirks a small grin.< i>”That doesn’t mean you have to eat everything in sight. A lady never does that.” With a disgruntled sigh Cerva dismisses herself from breakfast and informs them that she’s ready for what is to come. ”Oh, good!” With an enthusiastic clap Elizabeth gathers all of the handmaids together to begin the work ahead.
A warm bath is prepared in which Cerva delicately and shyly steps into. It wraps around her as she submerges her lithe body. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she thinks back to her last bath. Sadly, it has been long enough that she has nearly forgotten. Quick splashes on her face at the river were enough to suffice her bosses in whichever job she performed. Cleanliness was never truly enforced, at least not for one of her social class.< b>”This feels wonderful,” she hears herself whisper as her legs stretch out in the bear claw tub. Elizabeth glances toward her but says nothing, merely nodding as she makes further preparations. Another hand maid, Giselle, quietly scrubs Cerva and douses her hair with a bucket of water to rinse out the soap. The time is spent day dreaming, reminiscing, of the picture she had once seen of the prince. He had blonde locks and his eyes were a golden honey. He was cute then, but she has never seen him before – not in person at least – and at that age she wasn’t interested in boys. No matter how famous and rich a boy was he still had cooties.
By the time the water has chilled Cerva’s mind is returning to the present and to the sound of Giselle’s sweet voice. ”My lady, your bath is done. We need to finish,” she bows her head and takes a step away from the tub. In her hands is a towel that is immediately wrapped around Cerva when she rises slowly to her feet while trying to cover her parts.< i>”We have the same things, dear, if not more,” Elizabeth’s voice is rougher but still kind and with a touch of humor. ”Now come. We have to do something with your hair and clothes.” Sitting in a chair Cerva grits her teeth as they begin pulling and brushing. ”What beautiful hair you have and yet it seems like you never take care of it.”< b>”There was no need to when I was working the jobs I had. Nothing about my life has ever been like a beauty pageant,” her reply comes out sharper than she intended. ”I’m sorry.” Elizabeth merely sighs and continues fussing. She tries the different Edwardian styles like a woman’s pompadour and something with a much flatter top to accommodate a hat, but everything comes undone with the twist of her nimble fingers. ”You are a pretty girl. We don’t have to go crazy with your hair. We want something to compliment you, not take away from your face.” After a few whispers of her maids Elizabeth resumes working.
Cerva’s eyes close for the time being the second she sees a hot iron being brought close to her. The heat reaches out like fingers to trace the soft skin of her cheek as they curl pieces of her hair in the front. The bulk of her hair is plaited loosely with elegant wisps uncontained. It’s simple but fair and somehow beautiful. After years of wearing her hair down or in a ponytail it’s difficult to see anything else when her eyes finally open.
”Now, you have a, uh, lovely tan, but the darker the skin the more you’ve been outside working. Pale is what’s popular. It shows you’ve hardly worked and are therefore a higher class.” Elizabeth chides and before Cerva can reply, the head maid shouts, ”Get me lemon juice!” That should help, the girl hears the maidens whisper and they begin applying makeup. There isn’t much on hand, but it’s more than Cerva has ever applied. They use creams and lotions, powder and rouge. Her cheeks pick up a pleasant tint which is then complimented by sultry red lips. Her eyes they leave untouched, admiring how open and bright they are. ”Dresses! Hurry now, we’re running out of time!” The girl sighs, feeling as though she has been primped for days. The minutes are eternity. The excitement is slipping away. ”Don’t slump!” Elizabeth scoffs before smacking Cerva’s back. ”We need you to stand straight to fit you into your gown.” Obliging without objection she rises to her feet from the luxurious chair and watches as the team continues to whirl around her, fussing and nitpicking at every detail.
Only when the dress and shoes have been put on do they step back in admiration and silence. ”Look, my lady,” Giselle whispers prior to tilting her head in the direction of a mirror. Gulping past the lump in her throat Cerva hesitantly inches toward the glass to stare at herself in awe. Her nutmeg locks have been tamed and braided with sweet curls spiraling down. Her face is bright and flawless, even more so when she smiles. The dress reaches down to her toes and hugs her youthful curves until falling straight from her hips. A rich hue of turquoise somehow brings out her own rich, honey eyes. The slightest bit of cleavage shows but is otherwise conservative down to sleeves which stop just before the elbows. There is floral embroidery in the bosom before a line of it trails down to her left hip then further down to the bottom of the gown. ”Thank you,” she whispers before turning to face them all. The group merely nods before the tailor steps forward with a note. With encouragement from Elizabeth Cerva begins to read quietly to herself until her surprise cannot be contained.< b>”A date!” There is a clap of excitement until a breath catches in her throat. ”I have to think of it. Oh, gosh.” She begins to slip back down into the chair until Giselle catches her.< i>”Think hard, my lady, because there are others who are trying to win his heart. Be yourself. Be memorable.” But Cerva shakes her head, uncertain. ”I’m a dirty daughter of a pauper. I am nothing special so why would anyone want me as I truly am? What does royalty even do?” She has always pictured them being stingy and refusing to step outside in fear of having a speck of dirt stain their white pants. Her face almost buries into her hands, but she remembers her makeup and instead looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.
Knock, knock, knock.
The rapping at the door brings a rush of butterflies to Cerva’s stomach. She bites her lip anxiously and waits for a cue from Elizabeth before allowing them to open the grand door into her bedroom. There stands a butler watching her with scrutinizing eyes and with a voice much smoother than she anticipated. ”My lady, the Prince awaits you at the base of the stairs.” She nods, her curls bouncing gently, before she finds herself being ushered out and down the halls. Only now is she able to truly see and take note of the eloquent surroundings. Everything is so ornate, so perfect, that she fears ever to touch anything. Even carpets are imported and made of the finest quality. Her mouth opens to ask but she decides against it as they reach the grand staircase.
There, staring up at her, is the prince, Francis.
Cerva’s heart flutters. Her eyes close to gain her composure before she gracefully reaches for the railing and begins her descent down the curved stairs. A smile forms from within as she finally steps in front of him, in front of her possible betrothed. ”Um, hello,” as habit tries to set in she reaches for a strand of hair to play with but catches herself and pauses with her hand awkwardly in the air. A sheepish chuckle follows before folding her hands across her stomach. ”I’m Cerva, your majesty.” Isn’t that what she is supposed to address him as? She isn’t sure as she tilts her head respectively before meeting his eyes. ”A pleasure to meet you, Cerva. I’m Francis,” he reaches for her hand and places a most delicate kiss. ”I hope everything has been comfortable and fitting for you?” His eyes rove across her but his attention returns quickly to her gaze. ”Oh, absolutely.” This is proving to be stingy so far. There are knots in her stomach, but she is too afraid to speak or to act. Perhaps a tea party is more to his standard? When she is prepared to offer a relaxing and tranquil idea Francis interjects.< i>”Oh, good. They left.” Before Cerva can ask who he adds,< i>”I have to always be so proper when William is around. He’s the first to tell my father of any mishaps I let slip.” When he smiles now it seems warmer, more sincere. It melts her but she tries hard not to betray her sudden feelings. ”So, any ideas?” Inhaling slowly, thoughtfully, Cerva nods. ”Where are your stables?”
The horses are tacked up and they are mounted as quickly as they can muster. What begins as a placid jaunt around the courtyard escalates to so much more. There is a gleam in their eyes as they nudge their horses forward more and more. There is adventure in him and a sense of fun that Cerva never thought possible. ”Who would’ve thought you knew how to ride,” a burst of light-hearted laughter resonates through her and as Francis prepares to respond she quickly says, ”Let’s see if you can do more than walking.” With a heavy nudge she urges her mare into a canter which is closely followed by the Prince. They dodge hedges and fountains, following paths and jumping small, decorative walls. Occasionally, there is a shout from a prison guard to slow down or to remind them that they cannot leave the castle grounds. And so they swerve and change their course toward the old polo field. The ocean spray kisses her cheeks as they gallop in the trimmed, green field. Their laughter explodes and splinters the air around them. Jokes and challenges are tossed back and forth until they rein in their mounts and edge close to one another. What beautiful hairstyle had been done to Cerva is now windblown. Francis is out of breath but with a broad smile stretching wide across his face. ”Where did you learn to ride like that?” As a means to elude the question she replies, ”I could ask you the same.” Their horses are lathered in sweat, their breaths heaving until the couple begins to walk them, cooling them gradually.
Time is ticking, Cerva reminds herself.
This can’t last forever.
Servants arrive to the polo field to retrieve the horses once the couple have dismounted. ”I don’t know how expansive your grounds are or what all you have here. I want to do so much more but I really don’t have a clue what. Francis looks at her with an eyebrow raised, his mouth curved in a crooked grin. ”You’re not too great with trying to woo me, are you?” Without looking at him Cerva’s heart drops as low as her eyes. Defeat stabs into her and holds her breath for a long moment until she finally brings herself to meet his gaze. A lighthearted chuckle is shared between them as she pins back a curl behind her ear. ”I thought you were serious at first,” her chin is lifted by his hand and she doesn’t resist. ”You certainly aren’t like most girls around here. Where did you grow up?” I grew up in poverty, she doesn’t say. Her fingers fold into each other as she tries to elude the question. Her attention sweeps across the castle grounds quickly, roving for something to grab her interest that she could divert to.
”A library… Do you have one?” Deterred by the question Francis stares inquisitively into her eyes. ”The… library?” Cerva nods enthusiastically and he simply shrugs before guiding her to the two-story study. Their footsteps echo down the halls until they slip into the library. The shelves of books unravel in front of her and engulf her from every angle. ”I’ve never seen so many,” she is in too much awe to feel Francis brush his shoulder against hers, admiring the way she soaks everything in. ”So why here, Cerva? Most girls want to share a dinner or a romantic evening, and yet you choose a library.” Feeling sheepish she turns to look at him then ushers him toward two lavish chairs. ”I want to truly get to know you. I don’t want to see how you can wine and dine me. I don’t want you to puff out your chest and show off (although I was highly impressed with your riding skills). I want to know more of you than just the outside.” A pause breaks between them as their eyes meet. ”I want to know who you are, not what you are.” Her heart is pounding against her chest as she notices his cheeks flush. ”That’s a first…” At first she almost thinks he will abandon this moment, but instead he shifts to get comfortable. ”We only have a few minutes left of the two hours.” The girl bobs her head knowingly. ”What is your favorite thing in the castle… And be honest.” Her eyes narrow, but she is smiling warmly at him. Hmmm… I think I might have to say the kitchen.” When his reply is met with laughter he can’t help but join in. ”I like to eat. Sometimes I have the Head Chef teach me some recipes.” Surprised by this, Cerva settles herself and takes in a breath. ”I’m shocked. Why would you want to learn how to cook when you have people that do it for you?” It’s more or less rhetorical and so she moves on as the sunlight shines through the window and paints everything a shade of scarlet. ”Do you have any passions?” This makes Francis truly hesitate. The brass buttons of his Irish guard-styled attire catches the dwindling rays of light. The red material compliments his honey hair. ”I have an answer, but I know it isn’t what you want to hear. I want to lead this kingdom well, to be a great King making history.” ”Yeah, that’s sort of a predictable response.” Her voice is softened as evening approaches and when there is a knocking on the grand library door.
Francis immediately rises to his feet and straightens himself before extending an arm for Cerva to hook hers through. His left arm is bent behind the small of his back. “Two hours have now ended, my Prince and my lady. It is time for you to retire for the night.” Francis bows his head and walks slowly with Cerva moving in sync. Her dark locks roll elegantly down her shoulders as her dress fans out behind her. ”I had a lovely evening with you, Cerva.” ”As did I, my Prince.” Their smiles are electrifying as butterflies bloom in their stomachs. As William bows and reaches for Cerva’s arm Francis takes a step back, obliging that their evening has come to an end. Before they are separated, however, Francis leans forward and whispers, ”Drawing.” Cerva glances back at him in confusion and is met with his charming grin. ”My passion is drawing.” And with a final bow William leads Cerva away to her bedroom chamber.
“My lady, it won’t be until the next couple days until you hear anything. Please, make yourself comfortable. You have servants here to help you and take care of you, if need be.” She nods and thanks him sweetly before disappearing into her bedroom here Giselle and Elizabeth are waiting. After a much-needed bath Cerva slips into sleepwear and into bed. It’s suddenly lonely and quiet but she lulls herself to sleep through memories of the evening with her Prince.
”Eat up quickly then the fun can begin,” Elizabeth smiles before turning to speak with the other housemaids while Cerva hungrily eats. When she looks over her shoulder she sees Cerva with a mouth full of food with crumbs and jelly around her mouth. ”Oh, heaven’s child! You need some manners if you’re going to be with our Prince!” She rushes over to clean up Cerva, lecturing her and primping her.< b>”I’m just really hungry. I’ve never seen so much food in my life!” Elizabeth tilts her head and quirks a small grin.< i>”That doesn’t mean you have to eat everything in sight. A lady never does that.” With a disgruntled sigh Cerva dismisses herself from breakfast and informs them that she’s ready for what is to come. ”Oh, good!” With an enthusiastic clap Elizabeth gathers all of the handmaids together to begin the work ahead.
A warm bath is prepared in which Cerva delicately and shyly steps into. It wraps around her as she submerges her lithe body. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she thinks back to her last bath. Sadly, it has been long enough that she has nearly forgotten. Quick splashes on her face at the river were enough to suffice her bosses in whichever job she performed. Cleanliness was never truly enforced, at least not for one of her social class.< b>”This feels wonderful,” she hears herself whisper as her legs stretch out in the bear claw tub. Elizabeth glances toward her but says nothing, merely nodding as she makes further preparations. Another hand maid, Giselle, quietly scrubs Cerva and douses her hair with a bucket of water to rinse out the soap. The time is spent day dreaming, reminiscing, of the picture she had once seen of the prince. He had blonde locks and his eyes were a golden honey. He was cute then, but she has never seen him before – not in person at least – and at that age she wasn’t interested in boys. No matter how famous and rich a boy was he still had cooties.
By the time the water has chilled Cerva’s mind is returning to the present and to the sound of Giselle’s sweet voice. ”My lady, your bath is done. We need to finish,” she bows her head and takes a step away from the tub. In her hands is a towel that is immediately wrapped around Cerva when she rises slowly to her feet while trying to cover her parts.< i>”We have the same things, dear, if not more,” Elizabeth’s voice is rougher but still kind and with a touch of humor. ”Now come. We have to do something with your hair and clothes.” Sitting in a chair Cerva grits her teeth as they begin pulling and brushing. ”What beautiful hair you have and yet it seems like you never take care of it.”< b>”There was no need to when I was working the jobs I had. Nothing about my life has ever been like a beauty pageant,” her reply comes out sharper than she intended. ”I’m sorry.” Elizabeth merely sighs and continues fussing. She tries the different Edwardian styles like a woman’s pompadour and something with a much flatter top to accommodate a hat, but everything comes undone with the twist of her nimble fingers. ”You are a pretty girl. We don’t have to go crazy with your hair. We want something to compliment you, not take away from your face.” After a few whispers of her maids Elizabeth resumes working.
Cerva’s eyes close for the time being the second she sees a hot iron being brought close to her. The heat reaches out like fingers to trace the soft skin of her cheek as they curl pieces of her hair in the front. The bulk of her hair is plaited loosely with elegant wisps uncontained. It’s simple but fair and somehow beautiful. After years of wearing her hair down or in a ponytail it’s difficult to see anything else when her eyes finally open.
”Now, you have a, uh, lovely tan, but the darker the skin the more you’ve been outside working. Pale is what’s popular. It shows you’ve hardly worked and are therefore a higher class.” Elizabeth chides and before Cerva can reply, the head maid shouts, ”Get me lemon juice!” That should help, the girl hears the maidens whisper and they begin applying makeup. There isn’t much on hand, but it’s more than Cerva has ever applied. They use creams and lotions, powder and rouge. Her cheeks pick up a pleasant tint which is then complimented by sultry red lips. Her eyes they leave untouched, admiring how open and bright they are. ”Dresses! Hurry now, we’re running out of time!” The girl sighs, feeling as though she has been primped for days. The minutes are eternity. The excitement is slipping away. ”Don’t slump!” Elizabeth scoffs before smacking Cerva’s back. ”We need you to stand straight to fit you into your gown.” Obliging without objection she rises to her feet from the luxurious chair and watches as the team continues to whirl around her, fussing and nitpicking at every detail.
Only when the dress and shoes have been put on do they step back in admiration and silence. ”Look, my lady,” Giselle whispers prior to tilting her head in the direction of a mirror. Gulping past the lump in her throat Cerva hesitantly inches toward the glass to stare at herself in awe. Her nutmeg locks have been tamed and braided with sweet curls spiraling down. Her face is bright and flawless, even more so when she smiles. The dress reaches down to her toes and hugs her youthful curves until falling straight from her hips. A rich hue of turquoise somehow brings out her own rich, honey eyes. The slightest bit of cleavage shows but is otherwise conservative down to sleeves which stop just before the elbows. There is floral embroidery in the bosom before a line of it trails down to her left hip then further down to the bottom of the gown. ”Thank you,” she whispers before turning to face them all. The group merely nods before the tailor steps forward with a note. With encouragement from Elizabeth Cerva begins to read quietly to herself until her surprise cannot be contained.< b>”A date!” There is a clap of excitement until a breath catches in her throat. ”I have to think of it. Oh, gosh.” She begins to slip back down into the chair until Giselle catches her.< i>”Think hard, my lady, because there are others who are trying to win his heart. Be yourself. Be memorable.” But Cerva shakes her head, uncertain. ”I’m a dirty daughter of a pauper. I am nothing special so why would anyone want me as I truly am? What does royalty even do?” She has always pictured them being stingy and refusing to step outside in fear of having a speck of dirt stain their white pants. Her face almost buries into her hands, but she remembers her makeup and instead looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.
Knock, knock, knock.
The rapping at the door brings a rush of butterflies to Cerva’s stomach. She bites her lip anxiously and waits for a cue from Elizabeth before allowing them to open the grand door into her bedroom. There stands a butler watching her with scrutinizing eyes and with a voice much smoother than she anticipated. ”My lady, the Prince awaits you at the base of the stairs.” She nods, her curls bouncing gently, before she finds herself being ushered out and down the halls. Only now is she able to truly see and take note of the eloquent surroundings. Everything is so ornate, so perfect, that she fears ever to touch anything. Even carpets are imported and made of the finest quality. Her mouth opens to ask but she decides against it as they reach the grand staircase.
There, staring up at her, is the prince, Francis.
Cerva’s heart flutters. Her eyes close to gain her composure before she gracefully reaches for the railing and begins her descent down the curved stairs. A smile forms from within as she finally steps in front of him, in front of her possible betrothed. ”Um, hello,” as habit tries to set in she reaches for a strand of hair to play with but catches herself and pauses with her hand awkwardly in the air. A sheepish chuckle follows before folding her hands across her stomach. ”I’m Cerva, your majesty.” Isn’t that what she is supposed to address him as? She isn’t sure as she tilts her head respectively before meeting his eyes. ”A pleasure to meet you, Cerva. I’m Francis,” he reaches for her hand and places a most delicate kiss. ”I hope everything has been comfortable and fitting for you?” His eyes rove across her but his attention returns quickly to her gaze. ”Oh, absolutely.” This is proving to be stingy so far. There are knots in her stomach, but she is too afraid to speak or to act. Perhaps a tea party is more to his standard? When she is prepared to offer a relaxing and tranquil idea Francis interjects.< i>”Oh, good. They left.” Before Cerva can ask who he adds,< i>”I have to always be so proper when William is around. He’s the first to tell my father of any mishaps I let slip.” When he smiles now it seems warmer, more sincere. It melts her but she tries hard not to betray her sudden feelings. ”So, any ideas?” Inhaling slowly, thoughtfully, Cerva nods. ”Where are your stables?”
The horses are tacked up and they are mounted as quickly as they can muster. What begins as a placid jaunt around the courtyard escalates to so much more. There is a gleam in their eyes as they nudge their horses forward more and more. There is adventure in him and a sense of fun that Cerva never thought possible. ”Who would’ve thought you knew how to ride,” a burst of light-hearted laughter resonates through her and as Francis prepares to respond she quickly says, ”Let’s see if you can do more than walking.” With a heavy nudge she urges her mare into a canter which is closely followed by the Prince. They dodge hedges and fountains, following paths and jumping small, decorative walls. Occasionally, there is a shout from a prison guard to slow down or to remind them that they cannot leave the castle grounds. And so they swerve and change their course toward the old polo field. The ocean spray kisses her cheeks as they gallop in the trimmed, green field. Their laughter explodes and splinters the air around them. Jokes and challenges are tossed back and forth until they rein in their mounts and edge close to one another. What beautiful hairstyle had been done to Cerva is now windblown. Francis is out of breath but with a broad smile stretching wide across his face. ”Where did you learn to ride like that?” As a means to elude the question she replies, ”I could ask you the same.” Their horses are lathered in sweat, their breaths heaving until the couple begins to walk them, cooling them gradually.
Time is ticking, Cerva reminds herself.
This can’t last forever.
Servants arrive to the polo field to retrieve the horses once the couple have dismounted. ”I don’t know how expansive your grounds are or what all you have here. I want to do so much more but I really don’t have a clue what. Francis looks at her with an eyebrow raised, his mouth curved in a crooked grin. ”You’re not too great with trying to woo me, are you?” Without looking at him Cerva’s heart drops as low as her eyes. Defeat stabs into her and holds her breath for a long moment until she finally brings herself to meet his gaze. A lighthearted chuckle is shared between them as she pins back a curl behind her ear. ”I thought you were serious at first,” her chin is lifted by his hand and she doesn’t resist. ”You certainly aren’t like most girls around here. Where did you grow up?” I grew up in poverty, she doesn’t say. Her fingers fold into each other as she tries to elude the question. Her attention sweeps across the castle grounds quickly, roving for something to grab her interest that she could divert to.
”A library… Do you have one?” Deterred by the question Francis stares inquisitively into her eyes. ”The… library?” Cerva nods enthusiastically and he simply shrugs before guiding her to the two-story study. Their footsteps echo down the halls until they slip into the library. The shelves of books unravel in front of her and engulf her from every angle. ”I’ve never seen so many,” she is in too much awe to feel Francis brush his shoulder against hers, admiring the way she soaks everything in. ”So why here, Cerva? Most girls want to share a dinner or a romantic evening, and yet you choose a library.” Feeling sheepish she turns to look at him then ushers him toward two lavish chairs. ”I want to truly get to know you. I don’t want to see how you can wine and dine me. I don’t want you to puff out your chest and show off (although I was highly impressed with your riding skills). I want to know more of you than just the outside.” A pause breaks between them as their eyes meet. ”I want to know who you are, not what you are.” Her heart is pounding against her chest as she notices his cheeks flush. ”That’s a first…” At first she almost thinks he will abandon this moment, but instead he shifts to get comfortable. ”We only have a few minutes left of the two hours.” The girl bobs her head knowingly. ”What is your favorite thing in the castle… And be honest.” Her eyes narrow, but she is smiling warmly at him. Hmmm… I think I might have to say the kitchen.” When his reply is met with laughter he can’t help but join in. ”I like to eat. Sometimes I have the Head Chef teach me some recipes.” Surprised by this, Cerva settles herself and takes in a breath. ”I’m shocked. Why would you want to learn how to cook when you have people that do it for you?” It’s more or less rhetorical and so she moves on as the sunlight shines through the window and paints everything a shade of scarlet. ”Do you have any passions?” This makes Francis truly hesitate. The brass buttons of his Irish guard-styled attire catches the dwindling rays of light. The red material compliments his honey hair. ”I have an answer, but I know it isn’t what you want to hear. I want to lead this kingdom well, to be a great King making history.” ”Yeah, that’s sort of a predictable response.” Her voice is softened as evening approaches and when there is a knocking on the grand library door.
Francis immediately rises to his feet and straightens himself before extending an arm for Cerva to hook hers through. His left arm is bent behind the small of his back. “Two hours have now ended, my Prince and my lady. It is time for you to retire for the night.” Francis bows his head and walks slowly with Cerva moving in sync. Her dark locks roll elegantly down her shoulders as her dress fans out behind her. ”I had a lovely evening with you, Cerva.” ”As did I, my Prince.” Their smiles are electrifying as butterflies bloom in their stomachs. As William bows and reaches for Cerva’s arm Francis takes a step back, obliging that their evening has come to an end. Before they are separated, however, Francis leans forward and whispers, ”Drawing.” Cerva glances back at him in confusion and is met with his charming grin. ”My passion is drawing.” And with a final bow William leads Cerva away to her bedroom chamber.
“My lady, it won’t be until the next couple days until you hear anything. Please, make yourself comfortable. You have servants here to help you and take care of you, if need be.” She nods and thanks him sweetly before disappearing into her bedroom here Giselle and Elizabeth are waiting. After a much-needed bath Cerva slips into sleepwear and into bed. It’s suddenly lonely and quiet but she lulls herself to sleep through memories of the evening with her Prince.