mydei who loves silence because you’re literally never quiet— even when he threatens to throw you in jail for talking your kings ear off. he doesn’t mean it, in fact he actually looks forward to when you sneak off from your duties to chat with him or bring him silly little flowers or street foods. he loves the moments where he can hear his name on your lips, instead of your majesty or your liege. he loves the moments where you look around for any maids that or servants before grasping his hand and leading him into a secret spot to kiss him, and touch him.
mydei who forgets you aren’t formally loyal to him as his servant and friend, you’ve never given him your formal allegiance, thinking that it was clear as day that you’re dedicated to him. your love is like a rose-- your purpose was to love him in your heart. you plant pomegranate trees in the courtyard after traveling to a distant area to get some for him, and he watches them every year grow bigger and stronger.
mydei who hurts you in a way that numbs you, in a way that makes you feel like a fool. in a rage he demands that you call him king, and clearly reminds you that you're just his servant. he didn't mean to snap at you, but you caught him in a bad time. maybe you weren't as special to him as you thought you were.. his voice caught in his throat as he sees your hand retract from his, his eyes desperately scanning your face to see if you'd make eye contact with him, a silent plea for you to talk.
yet you do what he wants -- you call him king, give his requested papers and leave, ignoring his plea to talk to you. perhaps it's easy to forget that even though you've been intimate, grown up with him, would die for him,, that you were just a servant to a king.
mydei who has too much pride to try and find you, and can only watch as you slowly build up your walls again. it was so easy for him to forget how you used to be, how cold and quiet you once were. he watches how you slowly grow quiet, more eager to pull away from his contact, more eager to leave. he watches as you confine yourself to your role-- as a servant for your king. he can feel the yearning in your eyes grow dim whenever you bring him his meals, and the conversations between you two growing prompter and prompter
mydei who grows to hate silence. mydei who grows to yearn for a touch he broke. he doesn't realize how much he misses you until he sees you from a window, flowers in hand like the ones you used to give. he's strangely so excited about it-- for things to be back to normal, until you never show up in his personal quarters. he hears silent chatter about your actions, how you've caught the attention of another man, much less one of his high knights. how you've been sneaking off from your duties to meet with this man, coming back with discheveled hair.
mydei who slowly grows resentment to his title-- and to the silence that fills his personal quarters. he used to yearn for quiet, now he longs for the noise you used to create. his title as king is stained in heart, a driver between the ever growing divide between you two. the pomegranate trees have slowed their growth from the time that you two have grown apart, your cheesy lines of how your love has fueled their growth coming true in his mind. he spends time thinking about the same bed that you took him on, how you'd love on him through your actions even though he claimed he never needed them.
mydei realizing you haven't visited him in days, and haven't called him by his name in months. the pomegranates on the trees have grown ripe, yet there is no one picking and delivering them to him with a smile. the fruits taste okay, but there's something missing.
mydei who clenches the now soft, rotting fruit in his hands-- he let them slip away the same way he did to you. he dreams about you constantly, how you'd whisper his name breathelessly ontop of him, or the feeling of your lips on his-- yet all he can do is dream
