pietá

Issues with your temper

(Y/n) still had the crate of cleaning supplies at her hip as she jogged down the stairs.

A soft tune escaped her throat as she sang. Her voice on the verge of angelic but still with some vaguely noticeable discrepancies. The light humming with occasional lyrics soothed her and in her mind, made the cleaning go faster.

She approached the back of the castle, seeing glass doors in the distance with light spilling through them. There was a small closet off to the side of the door and she went to it switching out her crate of supplies for a wooden broom.

At first she struggled to find how to open the doors, since there were no handles or anything indicating a way to open them. Eventually when she did open them they rattled loudly due to how thin they were.

The silence outdoors was completely different from the silence inside. It was more open, it didn't make your head feel restrained. Literally a breath of fresh air.

(Y/n) shut her eyes and inhaled, the fragrance of dirt and freshly cut grass overcoming her sense of smell. She could hear the sounds of gardeners tending to the plants, the rose bushes being the most visible. She let the door swing shut behind her and began sweeping.

Her broom scraped against the patio softly. And she sang under her breath unknowingly.

"Well," The voice came from her left. It was so low and mellow that it didn't startle her but it did marginally put her off.

She faced the voice and behind it was a male. Her fragile expression fell into a frightened one.

"Oh god..."

A young man with long black hair sat at a metal garden table in one of the three chairs. There was an open book in front of him and he leaned back in his seat with a scornful gaze. The same scornful gaze that (Y/n) saw last night.

"If it isn't the klutz. You're the insolent server who spilled a drink on me last night." His metal chair pushed onto the concrete as he stood up.

The female took a couple steps back even though he wasn't close to her yet.

"I... Yes, but with all due respect," The female began with an easygoing tone. "I did try and clean it up."

"You ruined my shirt."

"Ha, well, I beg to differ."

The male now closed in on her with only a foot of space left between them. (Y/n) wanted to stand her ground to show she wasn't to be toyed with. But the other part of her was ready to scream and run, not caring about her pride.

The tall man smirked. "What were you singing?"

"What?" She didn't even realize she was. "Oh. Nothing, nothing-"

"Tell me."

'Excuse me?' That's what she thought. He said this to her as a demand. She gave a sour look toward him, her blood boiling at the sight of his stern features.

He then peered down at her with inscrutable eyes. "Or I could send for the guards, seeing as you didn't address me properly."

The female gave an uncaring look. "You're?..."

"Prince Gossamer of Arden."

The young woman hesitated. She only ever bowed as a sign of respect, she respected each member of royalty she'd ever met. But him. This disdainful, callous-... (Y/n) would rather wear a copper bra in negative temperatures than bow to him!

She scowled and that's when she felt the harsh hand come down on her shoulder! Him gripping at her uniform tightly as he leaned into her ear to whisper.