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Me and you and the dark: [Prince x Maid]

Prompt: Your prince wants your touch, can you really refuse him?

fluff??? Idk what this is called

Part of your duties to the crown prince is to ready him for bed.

Which meant waiting for the prince in his room until he arrives as his usual routine permits. Then helping him out of his clothes. He'd watched you with such a cold unreadable gaze that night, as you stood infront of him, fixing his collar, and unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers brushing over his skin barely, but still enough for you to feel like you're overstepping. But he didn't say anything, so if you were doing something wrong, you couldn't tell if he registered it or not.

His eyes were watching you, like ice cubes dragging over every inch of you he observed. It was just how his gaze always was, so heavy and sharp, even in such a relaxed atmosphere. He silently tilted his head as you leant down to undo his trousers, only for him to click his tongue, and with a sharp tug, force you onto your knees.

You inhaled sharply as you were forced down by a tug on your collar, kneeling infront of him with your hands grasping his thighs to keep from falling against him completely. Your eyes snap up to his and he tilts his head, his expression remaining as stoic as it ever was except perhaps a hint of disappointment. You knew he always liked you kneeling before him when you could. He leans down a bit, his finger tapping your chin twice. It's a silent reprimand.

"Angel..." He pouted, his voice a siren's call. "You're being so reserved today."

You freeze up as his hand travels from your high collar to trace along your neck and up your jaw, his skin smooth and soft against your own. You weren't sure how exactly you were being extra reserved, when you've always been reserved with him. "Am I, my prince?"

He frowned slightly, and despite yourself, you wanted to reach up and smoothen his features. Of course, you would not. He carresses your cheek lovingly, making your heart jump slightly. "Tell me, angel," He hums, "Are you afriad of me?"

How do you think the Prince would react if the maid ever somehow got drunk?

Dear anon, you really asked me something I never thought about before.

I would honestly assume that miss maid would never actually drink by herself. But its a fun idea so...

Did not double-check for typos sorry.

✲Helpless✲ [Prince x Maid]

The palace hosted large events all the time. But this one was particularly annoying to the prince because he was suppoused to sit and look pretty and act the way he should to welcome the princesses of the north. To dance with them, to charm them, to make sure when they do return, they will have much to tell their father of how gracious his kingdom is.

So he kept it together. It's not like he hated these events, infact, he found them rather enjoyable usually. To drink and dance and gamble, witness the music and culture the best have to offer him. This should have been the same. Everyone was celebrating because this also marked the now amicable relations between the two kingdoms who'd been opposing one another for years.

He wasn't allowed to drink. Which maybe was a factor in his annoyance. He wasn't allowed to pursue his usual conversations in fear his tongue would loosen, so he did not feel like a part of the celebrations, even when he stood at it's center. What made him even more irritated was that his maid was no where to be seen all day. He didn't know who autherised her to leave at this time. Since she'd been her through morning to pre-celebration preperations. But suddenly she was nowhere to be found.

He hoped he wasn't sulking on the outside, as he took his chance to slip away from the crowd and into the interior gardens--a hidden little space nary visited by those outside his family. He sighed the minute he was out of sight. Running his hands through his perfectly styled hair, leaning against the palace walls, muttering curses about his boredom when---

Oh. What's this?

He catches sight of a couple of giggling girls hiding in the very corner tucked away from sight, like he'd been hoping to be. A hot, thorny vine wrapped around and dug into his heart, making his chest hurt with his anger. They should not have been here. This was a private place for him to nurse his headaches, not a place for some idiotic little girls to play around and slack off.

He advances forward, his face stony. But the closer he got, the more his anger simmered down to amusement. A few younger maids crouching low, whispering harshly for her friends to be quiet. He wanted to see what they were doing in this place, what was so secretive you'd hide in the private gardens during celebrations to hide it?

With that interest in mind, he leans over and peeks through the trellis wall.

His eyebrows shoot up.

Solivan's eyes lock on you. You'd been all quiet, and he hadn't heard your voice. Hell, he'd been looking for you all evening, and you had abandoned your post when he needed you and for what? For this? This is what you were doing? Speaking of...

One of the maids pushed a bottle into your hand.

He could read the label. He knew what it was. His eyes narrow, seeing your little friends taking chugs of it like they were inexperienced teens. He could almost scoff at the pure stupidity of drinking at a place like this. He should be furious with you, and he sure as hell was going to convince you of that, perhaps when he decides to bust this little party of yours. But he watched intently for your reaction, because he did not believe you would take a sip. Atleast what that's his initial thought--until he studies you intently, noticing your strange posture, with your hand bracing you against the grass, so unlike your usual perfect stature. Your eyes take a while to focus, your reaction so delayed he knew you were already dizzy with drink.

That makes whatever sour mood making his anger stronger simmer down to amusement all over again.

Anyone would stop this. Especially when everyone in that little circle begins to urge you on. A good gentleman would stop this. He would discipline all of you for daring to drink on the job. He would stop it.

His lips curl into a smirk.

And he watches you gulp down more.

You gag, mostly because the drink all of you are chugging is the sipping kind, and you idiots were drinking it like water. Passing it around until it's near empty.

He watches you hand the bottle back and then slump against the grass, your eyes heavy.

You looked so sweet, it's almost pathetic.

He takes his time, watching how the other two begin trying to shake you awake--that's when he steps in. He rounds the wall with a casual stride, and when his shadow falls over you all... He watches everyone freeze, and satisfaction blooms in his chest when everyone still able to hold themselves up turn their heads to see him.

"My, my." He hums, his hands in his trouser pockets. His face an expressionless statue. His keen eyes note the goosebumps on their skin even in the dark. "What do we have here?"

The way they stumble to their feet is hilarious, all flustered and drunk and absoloutely not what he was focusing on, because you were laying on the ground, your eyes half lidded and staring up at him. "Y-your highness! We didn't--W-we were--"

"Drinking." He finishes for her, "Yes. I can see and smell that."

They apologize, beg for him to have mercy, comically trying to hide you behind them as if that would be enough. He had to admit, he'd almost broken his stern face seeing how this all was playing out. But he didn't, he dismissed them, telling them to go home now and expect disciplinary action come morning, as he would not halt the celebrations of everyone for some stupid girls.

They believed him, and when they tried to pick you up, he stops them. "Leave her."

"H-here?" One of them mumurs, frowning at him with that lovely fear in her eyes.

He watches you mumble something, grasping the other maids shoulder to pull yourself up. Your hazy eyes, your messy hair with grass poking out of its strands, your confusion--

He finally allows himself a smile. "Yes, here."

They left rather quickly. He wasn't sure if he was impressed by their comraderie or how easily it fell apart. It didn't matter now, though. He took a deep breath of chilly air, towering over you in the dark. He glanced around the private gardens, satisfied with hearing only two people breathing.

He tilts his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he steps forward, crushing some of the flowers beneath his feet. He crouches down, watching how you were sitting, hunched over with your head hanging, stray locks of your hair falling around you. He huffs a small laugh when he scents the alcohol on you. He gently tilts your head up, "Ah... My angel..." He coos, reaching out to tilt your chin with his fingers.

Your eyes meet his, all dizzy and trembling. You were shivering, poor sweet thing. He sees the pout on your lips as you avoid his eyes, and he mimics it. "So sad." His finger brushes over your pouty lip, and you tilt your head to the side, still avoiding his gaze. "Here I thought you were all perfect, only to find you drinking in my gardens. Not even a greeting from you."

Your lips tug down and he almost laughs. But then you part your lips and finally say something, "..'m sorry.."

His smile widens a bit at the little slurred apology. "Sorry?" You nod, sniffling a little, and that makes him pause. He tilts his head mimicing yours, and tries to meet your eyes. "Are you crying?"

You shake your head, but the little sniffles and trembling lower lip really does give you away. He huffs out a laugh, his fingers move from your chin to pinch your cheek, "You are drunk." Despite his intent to sound stern, his amusement leaked through. "What a mess you are. What shall I do with you, hm?"

He watches you deflate, catching how your hands pick at the little flowers around you, plucking them into your lap. They are all crumpled, but seem to be there for you to fidget with. Your words are small and slurred when you speak, "...No good..." You mumble, "No good... you should--should go..."

He pinches your cheek again, making you frown and push at his hand, another bold move he hadn't seen before. "Do not tell me what I should do."

"No..." Your hands slap over his eyes rather hard if he had a note to give. "Go away!"

Okay. This was getting a bit annoying, actually. The adorable little charm of your drunken helplessness was draining quickly. He pulls your hands away from his eyes, especially when he hears shuffling as you try to stand. His upper lip tugs up in annoyance. Your hands grasp at his shoulders to aid you in gaining your footing, not that he reached to help you at all. "No. You little idiot, where are you going?"

He yanks you down by your wrist, making you stumble rather easily, falling over him and making his knees plant directly into the grass to hold himself up as well. He wraps his arm around your waist to steady you, which he regrets when you slap your hands over his eyes again. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, pulling your hands away from his face again, "Do you think being a pathetic drunken mess will absolve you of the crime you're committing by raising your hand at me?"

This seems to make you shrivel up, your shoulders sagging and your hands grip the grass where he has them pinned. You lower your head, "Sorry..." Your words, uncoordinated and lacking the poise you usually have, somehow irritate him. "I didn't mean to... I'm... No good... Like--this way... For my prince..."

He sighs, he can't help but be endeared by your pathetic state. Even inebriated, you insist you are of no use to him like this. Which was true, to some extent. Still devoted, even when you're dizzy with drink. He almost has to laugh at your consistency. "You are no good like this." He says coldly, watching how you try to make yourself smaller, "Especially to me."

He keeps your hands pinned to the ground infront of you with one hand, his other moving to poke your soft cheek, your lips tremble at his reprimand, even though he's just messing with you. "Look at me, angel."

You shake your head. Disobeying, something so rare for you. It only raises his curiousity. "Are you saying no? You cannot say no to me." You shake your head again, but even though you seem insistent in your disobedience, you sneak glances up at him, which makes him chuckle. "What a terrible liar you are."

He scoffs when you nod. Atleast you know what a dreadful liar you are. Your hands wiggle underneath his, trying to pull away.

His fingers move from poking your cheek to carressing it. You were so much weaker than he is, and when you look so dejected, flustered and drunk, a part him find it funny how easily he could overpower you, how useless and weak you are in this state. You should never drink at the palace, and he wanted to show you exactly why that is. He tilts his head, his voice lowering to a gentle soothing tone. "Do you enjoy it? Being so helpless?"

"No..." You mumble, shaking your head. Your eyes flick up to his, wide and teary, and it makes his heart do a little jump. He tuts at the shake of your head. So cute.

"No..?" He hums, mocking your tone. Leaning in, Solivan brushes the tip of his nose against yours. "Liar." You flinch, your breathing uneven. It makes a sick sense of satisfaction bloom in his chest, seeing how easily his proximity could unsettle you. "Do you know what could happen to you when you are so helpless? What anyone can do to you?"

Your eyes tremble as you watch him, and he cant help the smile that curves his lips. His voice remains gentle, soothing. "They could kiss you alllll over..." He mutters, brushing his lips over your cheek, a gentle barely there kiss. His chest burns when your breath hitches. His lips brush lower, over your jaw, "They could have their hands allllll over..." His hand moves down, his cold fingers grazing the skin of your neck over the high collar of your uniform, watching intently as goosebumps exploded over your skin. "Rip that pretty innocence of yours to shreds."

A small terrified little nosie escapes you, and pleasure blooms in his chest. Your voice shakes when you plead, "Please... Stop.."

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused by your plea. He'd never heard you plead with him to stop before. Your eyes usually did all the pleading, with your lips staying shut. He laughs airily. "Would anyone else stop when you ask, angel?"

He can see the fear in your eyes when you shake your head, and he cups your cheek. "Then you're so lucky it's your prince who found you, aren't you?"

You nod, the tears you'd been holding back finally slipping. Pleased by your response, he pulls away, taking your hand from where he'd pinned them, and pulling you into his embrace. His hand gently stroking your back. "That's right... Because you're helpless."

You hug him tightly, and it makes his chest warm. How cute you are when you are afraid. It makes him want to bring you to tears, only to kiss them away to savour the taste of your dependence. He savours your warmth against him in the quiet of the garden. The quite sniffles as you huddle closer, shifting to be more comfortable in the safety of his arms. He rests his cheek against the top of your head as you sit in between his legs, your side pressed against his chest. Your tears seem to have stopped, and his eyes flutter open to see what you're doing.

Your hands have busied themselves, weaving the stems of the zinnia clumsily. His serene expression flattens when he sees what you've made. A flimsy flower crown rests in your lap, and he feels a strange hollowness in his chest at the familiar sight.

His face remains expressionless as you lift the zinnia flower crown into your hands only to place it ontop of his head. "Don't... Don't be mad at me."

It was almost as he could see the ghosts of your pasts, running around this empty garden. A young girl and boy running after one another, sitting and plucking flowers to weave into crowns. He's silent, meeting your hopeful eyes with his cold ones. His eyebrows twitch, and he manages a few words. "...I am not angry with you."

Your entire body relaxes when you get what you'd been hoping for. Your head resting against his chest. His fingers curl into a fist against your hip. You don't seem to notice.

The silence stretches as you sit together in the gardens. While your frame is relaxed now, his is tense, sitting straight as he holds you. His eyes remain locked on a single flower nearby, away from the others. The flower crown placed crookedly around his head feels like a band, restrictive, burning where it touches his skin. The warmth in his chest now feels like a single coiling heat around his heart.

His ruminating breaks when your silly voice rings out, followed by a giggle. "...Crown looks nice."

He scoffs, "It's crooked."

"Still looks nice." You insist, reaching up and almost smacking his face in your blind reach for the petals. "Used to make them so much..."

He didn't want to hear about this. "Yes. You did."

"You did too." You sound almost defensive, and that makes the dark clouds around his thoughts disperse a little. "Used to make them together."

He bites his tongue, but hums in acknowledgment. His hold on you tightens when you sit up, looking at him. "...Do you remeber how?"

Solivan blinks at you. "... How to make a flower crown?"

You nod, your eyes moving up to lock on the terrible flowercrown you'd made, now resting around his head. He scoffs, ignoring the bitterness that sparks in his chest. "Of course I do."

You stare at him expectantly, until he sighs, glancing around. He lets go of you, rising and moving towards the flowerbeds of the garden, holding many types of flowers the queen enjoys. Uncaringly crushing the flowers and zinnias which were surrounding the both of you under his boot. When he returns, he holds a different arrangement.

He sits opposite you, cross-legged with the flowers in his lap. His hands move quickly, elegantly weaving a crown formed of dahlias and some discentras. It's much more elaborate than yours, but fragile, as he places it atop your head. His face remains expressionless, his fingers brushing over your cheek when he pulls away. "That's what a flower crown should look like. Not the flimsy little thing you made."

Despite his biting words, you seem elated by the flowers on your head, "Ha! You do remember!" He rolls his eyes, but pauses when you lean over and place a kiss on his cheek, something you would never have done if the drink hadn't been dulling your judgement. "It's great... It's wonderful.."

He eyes you, with black dahlias and pink discentra decorating your head, your hands gently touching the petals. A memory forces itself into his minds eye, clawing through his resistances.

And he feels like the petulant little boy who'd slay dragons to rescue his princess with her crown of flowers.

Your eyes glimmer with nostalgic and drunken happiness, even when your smile seems melancholic. "But you don't need zinnias anymore."

His eyes flutter closed.

"Your crown comes with rubies now."

How do you think Solivan would react if miss maid collapsed from him overworking her

౨ৎ Fairytales ౨ৎ [Prince x Maid]

As the Prince's personal maid, your responsibilities vary. You were responsible for managing his meals, his routines, his schedule, his clothes, cleaning his personal quarters, his desk--It was likely because you were the closest one could get to the crown prince. It was a lot of work for one maid. Especially because he insisted you personally attend to him each morning and each night. To bathe him, to dress him, style him, all by yourself. It made things a bit difficult for you, having to postpone your other work just to keep his highness happy. You comforted yourself with the thought that, atleast being so close to him only meant he trusted you, meant he enjoyed your company, in some capacity.

That made things easier, at least in your heart.

Even though the other staff aren't very amused with you blowing away your responsibilities, but what could you do?

It was practically an impossible situation, but complaining to his majesty didn't do anything. You'd hoped he'd accept some help that wasn't yours, but all you got was a pat on your cheek and a mocking little pout, telling you to prioritise what's important in your life. After all, what is more important, you doing peasant work or tending to his highness, the jewel of the kingdom?

You would never assume anything untoward from his highness, but something in his eyes seemed to be almost satisfied by your predicament.

You just had to play both parts.

It was usually doable, tiring, but you could make it work. Between audiences, meetings and whatever-else, you could find these spaces to fix your share of the main maidservants work. All of your extra duties tending to his highness shouldn't have been yours in the first place. There were a team of people responsible for every part of his routine, and it was that way for a long time. Until one day, you were the only one who was responsible for it all.

Then things... Escalated, you weren't sure why. His hyperfixation with having you in arms reach, in his lap, anywhere he can pinch and carress and squeeze you. Which meant when he was alone, you were with him. And his demands got... well, strange. Suddenly it was not alright for you serve his breakfast and leave, now you had to serve it to him by hand. Or kneel by his feet and with your head in his lap. That was if he was in a gracious mood. If not--He'd have you running around on meaningless errands, petty little things that would take you hours of correspondance and god knows what else. By the time your efforts bore fruit, he's decided you are too late and he has grown bored.

It was frustrating. He could see it on your face, the way you'd stare at him as if he'd just kicked your puppy. The way you'd get all flustered and stammer out an apology for 'being too late', even when you were frustrated beyond measure and wanted to snap back, atleast in question! But you couldn't. So you'd just bowed your head and apologised.

Solivan on the other hand, didn't have much problem. He liked watching you run around trying to grant him his every stupid wish. It was cute. And everytime you'd disapoint him was even better. You'd give him that deer in the headlights look that made you look so adorable, and then bite your lip to control your composure, keeping that perfect facadé of yours. Hilarious.

Your every moment was filled with tasks, wether emotional or physical labour. Especially so when his highness was in a particularly terrible mood. And today just happened to be one of those days. You hadn't had much sleep, and woke up late, having to hurry to begin his morning routine. He'd sent you on a million terrible tasks, as well as your usual workload, and by the nighttime, when you were preparing him for sleep, you were really at the end of your rope.

He sighed, his jaw resting on his palm, leaning agaisnt the armrest as you fixed his night clothes. His eyes scanned the perfumed letters in his hands, "This is headache inducing,"

You glanced up nervously, but he wasn't looking at you. His eyes scanning the letters, though his hand wandered down to caress your cheek absently. It wasn't your fault, as far as he was concerend, but you responded the same. Your body was so heavy, after the tiring day you've had. "... I will work faster, my prince."

He scoffed glancing at you and pinching your cheek suddenly. "You have failed me today." You lowered your head, embarrassed. "More than usual."

Your eyes flutter closed, "Yes, my prince."

"Tch." He gives you an irritated look. With a sigh, he threw aside the letters, they all fluttered to the floor. Standing and waving his hand to dismiss you. "Do not apologize. Be better."

"Yes, my prince." Your hands were trembling as you collected the letters. It didn't matter if they were confidential, it's not like you could understand them anyway. You gathered them together.

"Get rid of them, and tell my mother to stop forwarding them to me. It is not my problem, it is hers." He doesn't look back as he hears you shuffling, "And don't be late tomorrow. I was merciful today but you will not be spared if you repeat it. Do you understand me?"

Maybe you stood too fast, maybe your body was finally giving up to what it had been begging you to do for the last three days. It did not matter.

Solivan whirled around, the chair you'd held onto flipped over as you fell. He didn't even think, his legs were moving--A full sprint to catch you before your head hit the marble. "You--!"

He breathes hard, his hands tremble as he pulls you close to his chest, reaching for your wrist to check your pulse. Your pulse was there, and the fear that was curdling his blood leveled. With his arm under your knees, and one resting on your back, he pulled you into a bridal carry. "IDIOT!" He sneered at you, his worry annoyance making his heart hammer painfully against his chest.

Cursing under his breath, he rushed to his bed, placing you down. "Fuck!" He grabs your jaw, despite the force of the gesture, his hands shake with restraint. His eyes tremble as he stares at your unconcious face, your lashes on brushing on your skin. He grit his teeth, pushing your face away.

He whirled on his heel, his breathing uneven as he rushed out into the halls, the first person he catches is gripped tightly by the arm, "Call the First Doctor. NOW!"

The First Doctor shouldn't be too far, he was just here to check on his father. He should be here soon, it wouldn't take too much time--Yet still, he hurried to your side as if being far from you would be the thing that would hurt you. But as he stood there, watching you on his bed he couldn't believe his stupid fucking luck. He really thought the first time he'd have you here would be under different circumstances. He ran his hand through his hair, gritting his teeth.

And as he watched the the First Doctor check you and raise your feet using his pillows, he wanted to shake you and see your expression when you realise what he's doing for your worthless dispensable life.

Even though his thoughts veer from anger to vitriole, he couldn't help the frown that broke his porcelian face. Even though the First Doctor told him it was just exhaustion, that you'd be fine with some rest and proper nutrition for a couple of days, his stupid heart wouldn't stop hurting.

The fear he felt when seeing you drop was like nothing he'd felt before. Now, sitting and watching you on his bed, all he could think about was how much he resented this world for not being one of those stupid fairytales he used to hate when he was younger. How he wished he could just kneel by your side and be the fairytale prince who'd kiss your lips and watch your beautiful eyes flutter open.

He stepped closer, and stared down at you. His eyes flickering to your lips. His hand cupping your cheek, tilting your face towards him, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

This is stupid.

He leans down, his nose brushing yours.

This is not a fairytale.

He swallows hard.

He can't be someone that saves you.

His eyes flutter closed and he sighs, pushing away from you and straightening up, his cheeks burning with shame.

This is embarrasing.

He turns away, staring at the wall.

He turns back.

He glares at you. "This is your fault."

Unforutunately, you seem rather keen on the silent treatment right now, and he rolls his eyes. He could hear those approaching, probably coming to take you to the servants quarters so he can actually sleep. He stares at the door for a long moment, before his gaze settles on you again. Quickly, he leans in and places a kiss on your cheek, straightening up and clearing his throat as servants come in, bowing and apologising on your behalf. His face is still burning as he waves them off. "It's fine. Just take her away."

When he finally gets to collapse in his bed, he covers his face with his hands. "Goddamnit."

He is such a coward.

Rumours pt.1 [Prince x Maid]

Idk why but my body decided to go full pain mode, and tumblr deleted part of my draft. But anyway.

Prompt: Despite being years past your coming of age... somehow you haven't been courted.

You were working on preparing the tray of prince Solivan's dinner. He'd spent the entire day locked away in his study--with you--and had completely neglected his needs despite your protests. Although it frustrated you beyond belief to have to busy yourself in his office because... well, you didn't really know why he's suddenly decided he needed you to hover around him while he worked, in his lap or just fluttering around. His sudden decisions always ended up messing your own routine, which meant your responsibilities were piling up.

You listen to the chattering in the background, your colleagues gossip and go on about their lives and the happenings in the palace. People seem especially eager to celebrate today, mostly because one of the maids had gotten engaged to the man that had been courting her. She was so excited, happy to have wed a man of good standing, one that would surely elevate her place. Of course, the talk of courtships and relations became a hot topic of conversation.

You'd listened to the younger maids speak of what they imagine their love match to be, the older ones shaking their heads and trying not to break their hearts by telling them marraige did not have much to do with love at all.

Despite it being six years past your coming of age, you had not much of a history to tell of. So you mostly listened, happy enough to joke and laugh with them about the matter instead. You couldn't help but notice how they seemed to jump over you when in conversation however. Maybe they were being respectful, not wanting to put you on the spot because you didn't have much to tell.

At least, that's what you thought.

when the topic of the prince and his future matches came about, you seemed to be getting strange looks, some accompanied by sly smiles and nervous giggling. You'd weighed in, as you knew the prince the best, adding that you'd hoped when he did find a wife, you'd hope they would be compatible in personality at least.

Maybe it was nothing, you thought to yourself as you carried the tray up to the crown prince's apartments. But the nagging thought seemed to sour your mood a little. You enter only to find the first and second chamber empty, no courtiers, no prince. You wander deeper into the grand office and into the library, only to find the prince resting on a sofa, next to the windows showing the central gardens of the palace.

His face was unreadable, simply staring at the people socialising in the gardens, his eyes tracking his mother, who was seated in the gardens surrounded by her ladies in waiting and the many nobles waiting to be addressed by her. You placed the tray down on the table infront of him, "My prince," Your greeting seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. He remains silent, staring for a few more moments before his eyes slowly move to where you stand.

"Have you brought nothing for yourself?" He asked, though with a rough sigh of exasperation.

"No, my prince, I'm in no need--" But as always he didn't really head your words.

"Come," He muttered, reaching over to take your hand, though his touch is gentle as he guides you forward, "Be my company."

You frown, but take a seat beside him. You wanted to remind him that it wasn't right for him to be held up inside his apartments, which were suppoused to be open at this time, and should be outside with the rest of the palace before retiring. Instead, he spent the entire day away from court, as if that wasn't bad enough, he chose to eat his dinner hours after the grand dinner was held, and all alone. But you could see from his annoyed expression the lecture would not be welcome.

You shook your head slightly, besides, you had other things to worry about. His highness should know all of this already. Your own worries were now slightly more prevelant after all those talks of marraige and courtship between the maids. You remain quiet, despite supposedly being the prince's company, your mind lost in thought.

It was true that you sort of neglected your own personal life. Maybe because your work has been a bit more distracting lately, keeping you in the palace from morning till late. You hadn't had much chance to socialise with others outside your colleagues and the prince. Your gaurdians weren't particularly helpful, either...

While you were pondering your state and future of possibly being a spinster, you barely noticed the prince bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips, which part absentmindedly and accept it without thought. The taste snaps you out of your thought, along with the prince's airy laugh. It's not the first time prince Solivan has fed you from his own plate, despite how inappropriate it is. You thank him, grateful to have a taste of his plate. He moved closer, pulling you to him as well, his arm wrapping around your waist. "You know hundreds wait for a taste of what is leftover from my plate..." He hums, taking a piece of mutton lathered in sauce, he brings it to your lips, "And here you are, taking from my spoon,"

You tense up a little at that. You knew it was true, the royal family's dinner, usually served in abundant amounts, result in their leftovers doing the rounds based on station. You would never have seen them, if the prince didn't like to feed you from his plate by hand. "My prince," You immediately interject once you've swallowed the mutton, "Let me..."

He tilts his head, gazing at you with a slightly amused expression.

If anyone had even glimpsed him feeding you... Your lips purse. You didn't want to know how angry the Madame would be. You reach for the soup and spoon, "I am here to serve you, my prince."

He stared at you for a long moment, his amusment mixed with something you just couldn't read. Before he sighs and leans back against the sofa, gesturing vaguely, "Go ahead."

Your eyes meet, as you bring the spoon to his lips, he watches you with such intent, as if amused that you're find it easier to feed him rather than eat the food yourself. You were used to such things by now, doing them perfectly while your mind drifted.

Until of course his hand grasps yours, and you are snapped from your thoughts again. This time, he's frowning. And you feel a cold sweat break out on your skin. You pause, your voice nervous. "I... Is something wrong?"

"Yes." His frown deepens, his voice clipped and annoyed, "What is on your mind which is so important that you are so lost in thought every five minutes?"

You stare at him for a moment, and when his eyes grow colder at your silence. You press your lips into a tight line. You were never good at lying to him anyway. You sigh a little, and he narrows his eyes at your reaction. "It's nothing important-- it's just frivolous things..."

You hesitate, a moment too much it seems, because he pushes aside the food, "Put it down, and sit properly."

Your lips part to protest but you catch yourself. Instead you put down the food, and he wastes no time pulling you into his embrace. You inhale sharply when his arms encase you, and he shifts you way too close, your side pressed against his chest. He tilts his head, meeting your eyes, and pouts mockingly. "Won't you tell me whats on your mind?"

You press your lips into a tight line, debating telling him that he's getting far too comfortable dragging you into his lap, and that he wouldn't want to know about it. It's not something that he'd like to hear, of that you were sure. "... I am simply concerened," You start, embarrassed already about broaching the subject. "I... Well I am begining to think that my work is making... Other aspects of my life much more difficult."

He raises an eyebrow at you, his expression unfazed.

You feel uncomfortable with the way his eyes are staring into your own. "... And, well... It's been a long time since we both have become of age..."

His arms wrapped around you seem to still, his hands no longer skimming your side or drawing patterns on your knee. His eyes narrow a little, growing colder until you felt his displeasure weighing heavily on you. Your words falter, but he jerks his head into a sharp nod, urging you to continue. "W-well, I just wonder, my prince, have you not thought of your future um... marraige?" You weren't sure why you switched subjects from your fear and worry over having no prospects, to his own inevitable marraige. Maybe it was because you felt his irritation rising with each word, maybe because he actually was gauranteed to have a spouse.

His eyebrows twitched, but his annoyance was very obvious, despite his mask. His words cut sharp. "No."

"No?"

"It is enivitable. Why bother thinking about it?" You feel his arms around you tighten, almost crushing your side against his chest.

"Still... Aren't you worried you might not fancy the bride chosen for you?" You try not to wince, one hand grasping his arm as a desperate silent plea.

He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before a shiver runs through him, and his entire body relaxes. His grip loosening, allowing you to breathe normally again. "Don't care." He hums, nuzzling against the valley of your neck, "As long as you're here."

Your heart clenches at his words, and your throat constricts.

"As long as you are beside me, my angel..." He hums, moving up until his lips brush over your ear, "I can handle anything."

You swallow the rest of your words down with the lump of your throat.

He cups your cheek, his cold eyes meeting your own with a glare. "...I can always count on you, right?"

You nod, though you're sure your frown betrays your turmoil. You want to broach the topic but--

His glare breaks and he smiles, "Right." Patting your cheek and pinching it, causing you to wince slightly. "Is that what was worrying you, silly thing?"

"I..." You start but he doesn't seem to actually want an answer, because he's handing you the bowel of fruits off the tray, and taps his lip.

"You dont have to worry." He hums, bringing a strawberry to your mouth, pressing it against your lips until you part them for him, taking a bite of the tart and sweet fruit. His finger sweeps over your lower lip, tilting your head down. You look away, your hand finds another, and brings it to his lips. He smiles before accepting it, placing a kiss on your fingertips. His eyes burn into yours as his hands snakes upwards, his long elegant fingers wrapping around your smaller ones. "It won't be anytime soon."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Part two - Part three - Masterlist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Rumours pt.2 [Prince x Maid]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Part one - Part three - Masterlist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

His highness seemed much more at ease now that the whole subject of marraige had been dropped. You weren't sure if he actually understood your worries, but you would rather approach the subject of his inevitable marraige rather than question your own possibility of ending up alone.

But even days after, you weren't exactly feeling secure. The topic was weighing heavily on your mind, despite trying to push it to the back like it used to be. Yes, you never really worried about your own life before. Why did it matter if no one was really approaching you with a serious courtship in mind? You had work. You had many things to take care of, and well, your social standing isn't exactly great, especially when you spend a lot of your time surrounded by nobles. Of course you wouldn't have a chance, you just didn't have time to explore your options in places of your own interest. Surely.

...You hoped.

Your mind was busy as you tidied up around while his highness had tea, not because there was much to do here, but mostly because he wanted you here. Solivan watched you tidy up things that were already perfect over the rim of his glass. You were like moving like a musicbox, performing your task as if listening to an invisible tune he would always be oblivious to. His grip on the porcelain tightens for a moment, before he sets it down. "Angel."

You nearly flinch out of your skin, and that makes him chuckle. "Yes, my prince?"

"It is late." He sighs, standing and making his way to the doors of the chamber seperating his appartments. As he passes, his hand finds the small of your back, splayed out and moving slowly over your hip. You feel his presence behind you, caging you against the bookshelves, his breath a whisper agaisnt your neck. "His majesty the king is hosting a game, I am expected to be seen."

You freeze at the feel of his chest pressing against your back. You stare straight ahead, at the many titles of books on the bookshelves you're nearly pressed against. Control your breathing. You think, feeling his hand slide up your waist and down to your hip again in a carress, his fingers moving like an unfurling flower. "Do you need...need anything from me, my prince?"

You could feel his displeasure before you even turn, and a spike of panic tears through you, your thoughts dissecting your words as if to check for anything that might have upset him. His voice is soft and smooth when he speaks again, a jarring contrast to the tension you feel from the shadow looming over you. "No, no." He hums, his hand moving to the front of your uniform, two fingers mimic a walking motion over each of your top buttons. Your eyes trace them as if they were needles. "...Well, I would like a favour from your hands.."

You swallow hard, shivering when he straightens and leans forward, tilting his head so your eyes can meet. His cold, amused eyes meet your obviously nervous ones. He pouts, "Do not make such a face, you make me feel like a monster." Your lips part in surprise, your eyes widening. That hadn't been what you meant, what face could you have possibly made--? But there's no use explaining, because he interjects before he hears your response. "My angel should take her time tonight,"

This time, your sure your face portrayed your confusion accurately. He smiled, a slow curl of his lips that made something twist in your stomach. "You seem so distracted, it's bothersome. It's almost like I could hear your thoughts moving like a hummingbirds wings. If you do not stop thinking so much, I worry you'll find yourself hysterical." He frowns, and his smile turns pitiful or concerend, you weren't sure. "So take time to yourself for tonight."

Take time for yourself...?

He was giving you a night off? You were flabbergasted, safe to say. He'd never as much given you a break before. A whole night off? You turn to look up at him properly over your shoulder, "Are you sure, my prince?"

A small huff of what you assume is laughter comes form him, his smile remains, and his fingers toy with the top of your collar, snapping the button, and each time making you flinch ever so slightly. "Hm. Yes, why, are you worried about me, angel?"

"No, of course not, my prince." The words come immediately, and you miss the twitch of his finger. "I am simply... Surprised."

His hand moves from your collar to your shoulder and pressing you against the bookshelves infront of you, caging you in under his shadow. You turn your face, staring ahead, an uncomfortable noise leaves you. His eyes seem less amused and playful, making your heart pick up the pace. "Surprised." He echoes coldly. "Then I must be a cruel master."

This makes your limbs tense painfuly, his finger slips beneath your collar, gently tarcing the line of your throat. "No, my prince, I...I simply meant that you usually call for me during these nights as well..."

He scoffs, "...Is that so?"

You nod but the tension in his body doesn't seem to change.

You stammer to continue explaining. "I just wouldn't want to leave if my prince might need me."

"You are afraid to leave, hm.." You raise your chin instinctively, he can feel every change in you, and that's what unnerves you the most. He hums, considering your words. His lips brush over your ear, his scent and warmth enveloping you. His palm rests on your hip, squeezing your flesh, and goosebumps explode over your skin when he speaks in a sickly sweet whisper. "Why, would you miss me?"

He can feel the way your heart is racing. It makes his jump. But your silence is even more amusing, the way your eyes are staring forward as if you are afraid to make any sudden movements.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he pushes away, laughing. You whirl around to face him, your eyes wide. He just pinches your cheek, "You are free tonight. Do not venture too far from the palace at this time, it's not very safe. Otherwise do what you will."

He made his way out of the apartments before you could even respond. He glances back at you, waving a playful goodbye, a little smile on his face.

You watched him leave, still confused on what just happened. But it was his order--take time for yourself. So you promised yourself you'd get your last task finished, and you would rest.

Taking a walk in the gardens (to pick flowers for his highness' apartments) you presumed this was also taking a break, since you were enjoying the night air. Wandering closer to the training grounds was when the surprise of the night first started.

You had a friendly relationship with the gaurds of the palace. Mostly conversational, though you'd cleaned up after them on occasion. That's why you hadn't expected one of the guards to approach you.

He was one of the Queens guard, pretty high in standing. Xander Llewellyn was a quiet man who you knew as a dedicated to his work, from a newly favored house. He'd approached you quietly, you'd barely noticed him until you straightened up, a bunch of flowers in your arms. He gave you a smile, "You're always busy when I see you."

You curtsy, "Sir Llewellyn," Your eyes immediately flick to the bouquet he's holding, you laugh a little, gesturing to the flowers in your hands. "Seems like we are doing the same job."

He shakes his head, awkwardly shifting on his feet. "Well... No, because these..." He offers you the bouquet, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Are for you."

You blink at him. Then at the flowers he's been offering up. Then back at him.

"F.. For me?" You repeat, and you realise you've been staring for too long. You reach out to take the flowers from his arms. "Oh.."

"Yes," His smile broadens when you take them from him. The bouquet is lovely, pansies, Lilacs, lily of the valley... You knew what they meant without having him spell it out. He sighs, straightening up, "I know this is unorthodox, but I've been hoping to approach you by your lonesome for sometime. To express my intent, if you'll accept it."

You felt your heart squeeze, excitement building in your chest while you tried to compose yourself. He wanted to court you? He was right--meeting in the middle of the night wasn't exactly appropriate, but you were far too surprised to consider that yet. You stare up at him like he'd grown another head.

"I will express my intent to your guardians as well, but... I'd hoped to get an answer from you first. In case it is something you wouldn't want." He says, though his voice is soft it retains an air of careful nonchalance.

You've never experienced this before. You'd been worrying over it for weeks now, having been surrounded by the joys of live from the other maids and ladies. This was something you were hoping for--dreaming about--and Xander was a good man, with a station much higher than yours. You couldn't help but feel nervous. "... Are you certain, sir?"

That seemed to puzzle him. "... Certain?"

"I do not wish to doubt you, this is a wonderful gift, but I am..." Your words falter. Maybe your inexperience was showing, because you weren't sure how to express your thoughts. How can you ask why would someone of your standing wish to court someone like me?

You don't get to, because he interjects, picking a Lilac from the bouquet and hands it to you again. "... I am certain you are a beautiful lady I would like to know." His words are soft and warm, as he steps back. "You do not have to answer me now, if you are unsure. Take whatever time you need. Perhaps we can speak more often, outside the palace."

You reach out to take the single Lilac from his hand, and he takes your hand and lifts it to his lips. You weren't sure what your expression must have been when he placed a kiss on your knuckles and parts with the final words: "Please consider it, my lady."

You must have looked like a fool, your jaw on the floor. But he left without much comment. You'd stared at the spot he'd been for a long time, before you turned on your heel and rushed back to the maids quarters, your face burning and your heart pounding. When you'd entered, everyone's eyes were trained on you and the extravagant bouquet of flowers you'd been holding. The store's design by itself showed it was quite costly. Other maids crowded you with curious looks and excited gushing.

You weren't aware of it yet, but this was huge news.

The crown prince's favourite maid was being courted.

Rumours pt. 3 [Prince x Maid]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Part one - Part two - Masterlist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

To all those who wished for Solivan's torment after Jealousy, a fresh wave is about to hit. Also, sorry it's taking foreverrrr but sometimes the scene ends and you gotta roll..

You were busy humming to yourself as you moved around the room, fixing different little aspects of his highness's apartments. It was just the evening, and you had finally had a moment of serenity for yourself. Yes--Maybe technically you were on the clock, but it didn't dampen your mood. You were swaying, humming to yourself a tune you'd heard walking past the Queens apartments. She really did patron the arts, and you'd had the great honour to see and listen to many of the maestros of the era. Of course, hearing such things would naturally lift your spirits.

Oh, and there was the bouquet of yours, carefully tended to by your windowsill outside the palace perimeters.

You hadn't noticed how you'd begun to dance, moving to music which floated in a fuzzy melody from recent memory. You'd been distracted--swaying to music in your mind, when a pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, you felt the press of muscle against your back, and a masculine voice join in with your humming.

In a flurry of skirts and one swift movement, you were carried away in long steps of elegant waltz. His voice is a smooth siren's melody as he guides you, and your eyes are struck by the starry look in his. He anticipates your question before your lips even part, and shakes his head. A demand of silence.

You weren't much of a dancer.

He made sure the difference between you was negligible.

The room is a blur, and your skirts flare, before he pulls you close. "Your mood has sweetened, I see."

You avert your eyes, watching your feet and searching your memories for the two children learning a clumsy waltz in secret. "Oh... Has it?"

You knew why, you just weren't sure you were ready to share yet. After all, Sir Llewellyn had told you he'd wait for your reply before announcing his interest publicly. You felt it would be only appropriate that you answer him first, before telling anyone else.

Solivans lashes flutter open, peering down at you. The pressure that comes with his gaze makes your lips move. "Something wonderful has happened to me, my prince." A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, your hand tightens the hold, and you sway, however inelegant, to his tune. "Something that makes a heart sing."

He raises an eyebrow at you. But your heart's singing, and it's the sweetest tune. The steps you take fall into uneven rythm, floating across the marble of his apartments. The sunlight shines over your face, the warmth of your eyes, the beauty of joy which rarely graces his halls, make his chest feel tight and hot, like coiling vines growing between his ribs. He's silent, wishing to hear the music of your heart with his own ears.

Silence is all he hears.

His steps grow faster, and you can no longer keep up. Your unpracticed feet miss his, but the falter never comes as he pulls you close and an arm wraps around your waist, lifting your clumsy feet off the floor. Refusing to miss a step, he lets you dance on the clouds. The abrupt motion makes you laugh, a sound he can hear, one he can share--and that eases the pain in his chest. He twirls you, a smile graces his lips when you gasp as he dips, your eyes caught in his. "You're happy, hm? Something I should know about?"

You stare up at him, feeling your face warm up. "...Maybe." You hum, "I would not wish to celebrate too soon, my prince." You'd hoped your reply would not prompt him to demand your secrets. He must have seen it in your gaze, and for a moment, he felt tempted to force your hand. His smile falters when you do not confess, and his grip on you tightens slightly. You can feel the tension growing, despite his expressionless face.

Your smile falters as well, your brows furrowing. "I mean no insult--"

He shakes his head, setting you down and taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers with his own. He presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Of course not." He flashes you a dazzling smile, one that lights up his face, and always makes your heart melt. "Do not worry, my angel. I will celebrate with you when it is time, then."

Your shoulders fall slightly in relief, and the rest of the afternoon, he does not bring it up another time. Aren't you glad your prince is so gracious, so forgiving? He did not ask you about it again, not even once.

But he thought about it.

Constantly. obsessively. In a way which made his stomach turn, and a sick feeling grow in his gut. The vines around his ribs coiled tighter and tighter, crushing his chest in a way that made his blood feel too hot and his words far too cold. As cute as it was watching you prance around in your own little bubble, he was restless to find out what the fuck had you so happy. When he left, of course, he did not sit quietly 'until the time is right' it was ridiculous that you even thought he would.

So he went hunting.

Rumours are a funny thing.

They can be started so easily, and the best ones spread like wildfire. You already knew that your arrival at the maid's quarters with the bouquet was an obvious striking of a match. What you did not realise was just how big of a fire it would lead to.

Or whose rage it would ignite.

Even a day later, as you pondered your decision, or even if you should ask his highness for help in deciding, a few of your fellow maids find the moment to approach you. You had always participated in gossip; Of course, it was a benefit to working in the palace. It had been a long time since you were involved in them, though.

You'd confided your romantic trouble--Finally, you had some to share--to your fellow maids, but unease and surprise were evident on their faces. "...Ah, really? Sir Llewellyn...?"

"He's a good man..."

"Yeah, it's just..."

It dawned on you a little too slowly.

"...Just that it's surprising he'd ask you, no..?"

Just how funny rumours can be.

"...It's not like you both are in love..."

And just how blind you've been.

"Yeah, she's right... What could have possibly gone wrong with him...?"

To everything swirling under your nose.

"...To want a fallen woman..."

You never really shared anything about your non-existent love life.

"... The prince's usual no less..."

And they never asked why.

"Maybe you should consider it more...? He could be chasing a loose skirt to hide a scandal..."

Why no one had ever approached you. Not once since his highness and yourself had come of age. How long they believed this of you.

Your footsteps are desperate and quick, rushing through the palace halls, eyes searching. Grasping, hoping, to find the arms that always held you when things were falling.

And they were falling.

They'd been falling for longer than you ever thought.

You didn't bother with decorum, rules of ettiquette you always kept like god-given covenants when it came to your prince. You burst into the prince's study. His eyes immediately snapped to yours. Your face, your teary eyes, your trembling lips and the shudders wracking your body. He was up in an instant--and his arms were around you as they always were.

And the door is locked behind you.

His voice is a soft, sweet, soothing melody to your frayed nerves. "Ah... My angel... What's happened...?"

You buried your face in his chest, and he led you to his seat with his controlled, elegant steps, contrasting your broken, stuttering ones. Enveloped by his scent, by his warmth, the dam you'd been holding back breaks. The realisation had fallen on you, and it weighed heavily on your shoulders, like your own burdened sky to hold up. Because it all made sense. It all made sense.

Very little coherent words fall from your lips, disrupted with sobs and tears. He didn't need anymore information, though.

The way you curled into his arms, the way you welcomed his invasive touch without a noise of protest, just beautiful tears and that terrible little face you make when you cry like a child. His lips catch your tears as he murmurs soft, reassuring words.

He knows exactly why his angel's broken-hearted.

"They think you're fallen..." He murmurs against your hair, and his heart squeezes when you burrow into his chest like it's his words which sting. "...How shameful. You're the purest thing in this gilded cage."

Solivan cups your face, his face a beautiful mask of pity and sympathy, his lips in a pout as he wipes your tears. "No more tears. They don't deserve them. You are not alone, angel... You'll never be alone."

He lets you hide in his arms, feeling the wet touch of your cheek against his neck, and he can't help the soft, satisfied smile that graces his lips.

It really is terrible. Because he really, really did love your happiness. Yet somehow, unlike your happiness, your despair was the only thing he could ever touch. The only thing he could taste; Salty and mesmerising against his lips. It's the only thing he'd ever been allowed to hear.

His fingers caress the nape of your neck, every word of comfort tumbling from his lips feels hot, like the vines coiled around his ribs had bloomed flowers between his bones, inside his lungs and around his heart, and their petals dripped from his mouth with each word spilled. You were truly, perfectly, breaking.

Yes. How funny rumours can be.

"I'll burn those rumours for you if I could, I would ruin all who still speak of it if I could," He murmurs, breathing in the sweet scent of you tinged with your despair, squeezing your soft body against his, shuddering at the feel of you, how perfectly you whimper at the movement. "You have no idea what I ruin for you."

Heated with possession, his words sound like a sugar-coated caress to the fervour of anguish in your heart.

But they were true. He would ruin anything to keep you here, like this.

That man whom he'd newly learned had courted you.

Those who'd finally told you of the whispers which surrounded the both of you ever since you'd come of age, ones he'd spent years cultivating.

Even your own reputation.

But all would come in good time. For now, he would hold you until your tears dry. Until the words which worm doubt of Llewelyn's intentions dig deep in your mind. Until that fool kneels at his feet and dares ask for your hand in front of him.

"You don't have to worry, angel..." His hand slides under your uniform's skirt, his hand a warmth crawling up your thigh, relishing in the tremble that wracks your body. His lips leave a ghost of a kiss over your temple, and brush over your ear as he speaks, a low, heated whisper meant to remind you of what you are. "As long as you stay beside me..."

"I will handle everything."

So what if, in a random scenario, the maid made a mistake? Big or small—like she accidentally broke a vase or sorted something wrong while cleaning—but one of the other servants was being really harsh with their words, like calling her stupid or wtv, and Sol just sees them mid insulting the maid while her head is down

Honestly he really likes the drama

Your mind was busy. It was just a mistake.

It was a slip of the hand, a quick turn that knocked an expensive antique off it's stand and sent it crashing. Maybe it was because you'd been slipping in your general duties lately---The prince had been taking a big chunk of your time as always---but the First Lady of the Chamber descended on you with the fury of a personal grudge.

You didn't make any excuses, it was your fault after all, and you accepted responsibility. Even though some of the insults veered a little personal in your opinion. You just bowed your head in respect, your cheeks heating up as the other maids whispered. You knelt down to pick up the pieces of glass, trying to rectify your mistake.

The whispers quieted real quickly all of a sudden. You didn't look up, and the Lady of the Chamber didn't notice either, until a polished shoe stepped onto the large piece of glass you were about to pick up, and slide it out of your reach. "Now, now, what is all this commontion?"

"Your highness," The Lady of the Chamber curtsied, though her voice was strained. A flurry of curtsies followed. "It is nothing, your highness, it is simply discipline for a foolish mistake."

You were about to follow suit, attempting to rise from your kneeling position when a click of his tongue stopped you. You could feel his heated gaze on the top of your head, which only made your cheeks burn. You could feel the amused hum that followed, "Discipline, hm?"

You cursed everything watching above that he'd stumbled upon this scene, even when a little part of you felt guilty for doing so. You knew the other maids were a bit resentful of his favouritism towards you, especially when they felt that you were leaving your general duties for them to do whenever he requested your presence. This would only make it worse.

"What did the little fool do now?" He leaned down slightly, tilting your chin up. You could feel your heart drop when you see the amusement in his eyes. He had never had an qualms about teasing you in public, even when you'd pleaded with him to stop. He pouted, carressing, and squishing your cheek sweetly. "Clumsy, clumsy."

You bristled when he patted your hair. You resisted staring at him incredulously, especially because the last time you tilted his fountain pen at an incorrect angle he'd thrown a fit that would have put the Lady of the Chamber's to shame.

The discipline wasn't great either. You were thankful that the Lady of the Chamber's discipline was only delivered with words.

And this was a tiny bit his fault too.

He turned back the Lady of the Chamber, reaching over to absently flick the edge of the ribbon around her collar into place. "Well then. Do not let me intervene."

He stepped aside, clasping his hands behind his back.

Even the Lady of the Chamber turned to give him a strange look before she remembered herself. "Y-your highness wishes to---?"

"Watch?" He says blankly. "Yes."

She turned back to you. Your eyes met, and you could have sworn whatever envy she felt towards you trembled. This time her admonishment was delievered with hesitancy. Somehow, it was more embarrassing with his eyes roving over you like a physical carress.

You didn't need to see him to know that he wasn't particularly satisfied with her idea of discipline. You continued to pick up the pieces, rising, curtsying and rushing to get rid of the glass pieces stinging your hands. You could hear him criticising the madam before you shut the door behind you. "How disapointing. You cannot even do this correctly no wonder...."

Apparently, he'd taken his time tearing down the madams techniques, because by the time you were approaching the hall once more, he was just leaving. You curtsied once more as he passed you by.

His eyes met yours when you stole a glance at him, his finger come up to pinch your cheek. Despite the heated pirecing look in his eyes as he reagrded you, his voice was soft and affectionate. "Come to my study when you are finished. I will teach you how to kneel properly, angel. You look your best on your knees."

What if when it’s winter, Reader is messing with snow in her free time?

And one day, Sol just sees her in the process of making a snowman by herself

Just a silly li’l scene I imagined, lol

Soft fluffy stuff incoming!

☃︎ Best One We've Made ☃︎ [Prince x Maid]

The capital was quite beautiful in the winter, snow covered the ground, and snowflakes fall in a gentle sway. It would have been a sight to behold, except Solivan didn't exactly feel like beholding anything right now. The snow irritated him more than anything. He shouldn't have been here in the first place, as during the winter he was usually allowed to move to the southern parts of the kingdom to enjoy the 'winter'. But no. He was wrapped up in some idiotic negotiations by the order of the king, entertaining rebels who should have been squashed immediately, yet somehow play at diplomacy in the face of royalty.

It was disgusting. Useless.

Solivan toyed with the edge of the paper, his eyes sweeping over the subpar penmanship as he read. If it were up to him--Well, the snow would have looked so much more pure and white with their blood splattered upon its surface. He could already imagine how it would sparkle. He sighs, his eyes shifting from his work to the window, watching the snow peacefully fall upon the gardens.

Then he blinks.

And sits upright, squinting slightly.

"...For the love of... "

He abandoned his work to make his way down to the gardens, where you seem to get into most trouble. He stood watching in the doorway, as you knelt in the snow and using your scarf as makeshift gloves, attempted to shape the snow. It was ridiculous. Childish. A waste of time in which you could be doing better things, like providing a distraction so he could actually pretend to care about the rebellion documented on his desk.

But somehow all he could think of was how beautiful you looked with the snow settling in your hair.

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

The smooth curt voice made your head whip to the source, his highness walks into the snow, his angelic features looked even more delicate in the snow. You hurry to your feet, "Your highness," You couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed at the state you were in, especially in front of his highness. Your dress was wet and cold, sticking to your knees and shins, and curtsying was an uncomfortable feat you managed in the snow. "I... I was Um..."

You glance up and see his icy eyes move from your messy state to the terribly chunky piece of snow you were trying to cobble together. "Playing. You are... Playing."

You lowered your head, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You nod, a jerky little movement that would have been missed if he wasn't studying so intently.

He moved closer, the snow crunching under his boots. You yelp when he lifts your skirt without a warning.

"Not wearing proper attire." He noted. You stumble back, your hands resist yanking the skirt from his grasp, but stumbling back in the snow made you nearly lose your balance.

He really would have let you fall. It would have been funny. But, he did not want you catching ill on his watch. In one swift move, before you could manage to steady yourself, the scarf resting over your elbows was yanked tight, forcing you to fall forwards instead.

Right into the warmth of his chest.

See? How easily his mood shifts when you're where you belong.

He could feel how you tense in his arms. His fingers hook under your chin and taps it twice, a silent command which you obey, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. He smiles at you, he eases the tight hold of the scarf from around you, adjusting it gently around your arms again. It was wet because of the snow, useless. "Clumsy little fool. Are you planning to face plant into the snow as well?"

"Y-your highness, you..!" You began to point out that it was his inappropriate behavior that almost made you fall, that you could have righted yourself if he had just waited a second more---but your words falter when he raises an eyebrow. "... Thank you, your highness."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he pinched your cheek in a strange form of affectionate praise. "Hm." Truly, there was no better sight than that indignant heat in your gaze, the sweetness of your cheeks in the cold, and the sight of your lips parting, your breath misting in the air. His gaze lingered, softening when snowflakes fell on your nose and lashes.

"You should not be outside. You insisted you had work in the palace, that you could not simply loiter in my study and assist me this morning, and now I find you clowning carelessly in the snow instead?" His voice lowered, his eyes narrowed slightly, "Are we lying now, angel? Have I grown too soft on you, spoiled you too much to believe you can simply opt out of your work to pretend you're a child?"

"No," You manage, your eyes growing wide. "My prince, I was just... Just..." You were never used to the shame that came with his admonishments, no matter how often it happened. You never wanted to disappoint him. It felt like he was towering over you, with you shrinking with each word.

"Just what?"

"Just..." You didn't know what to say to deflect this. You didn't usually skip out on your work, but with snow, and the gardens... For once, you couldn't help yourself. You didn't think it would take too long--and what terrible luck you had that he'd seen you the moment you'd succumbed to the temptations of the perfect sparkly white plains. They had no imprints, no footsteps, nothing. What were you supposed to do?

"... Just wanted to build a snowman."

He blinked at you, his expression unreadable just like the silence which followed your admission. Build a snowman? It had been years ago the last time you did such a thing in the palace, not since constantly playing in the snow as children kept 'putting the crown prince's health at risk' and you were banned from it.

His eyes bore into yours, for a long, silent moment.

"... You...." He mutters finally. Your breath hitches when he simply pulls you closer, wrapping his coat edges around you as well, until you're surrounded in his warmth, without a space between you. You could feel the heat in your face, and you're sure he could feel it too, with your face buried in his chest, your body pressed too close for anything resembling propriety. You don't dare make a sound, you listen to the chuckle which is muffled against your hair. "You are so lucky I tolerate you."

He pulls back, cupping your face and tilting your head back, to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. "... A snowman, huh?" He glances at the lump on the ground. "This is disappointing even for you."

You step back when he lets go of you. Glancing down at what was supposed to be your snowman. "I... I have just started."

He pulls your wrist up, your hands are already freezing. "No gloves."

"I don't..."

Without another word, he pulls his own leather padded gloves off, and tugs them onto your hands. Your attempts at protests are completely ignored and disregarded. "Warm up first. Then we share, one for each. I'm not planning on getting ill because you are an idiot."

You weren't sure if that's how things worked, but you didn't disagree. The gloves were too large for you, but they were warm, making you shiver slightly, "Your highness is too gracious."

"Yes." He huffs and sighs, crouching down. "Now let's fix this dreadfully ugly thing."