Jan 11
The sweet morning scents filled the Vanilla castle’s walls, traveling the length of the bricks all the way to the king’s chambers. The Faerie Queen White Lily stood in the bedroom, in front of a vanity, tidying her hair from her slumber before. She gave brief glances to her right, where the king turned recluse stood, slowly getting himself ready. Slipping into his robes, combing his hair, and finally picking up his cone hat and examining it. “…Lily, are you sure I’m a king?” He asks. “But of course,” White Lily responds to the Recluse. “I know you better than anyone else, I do believe.”
