swimming, sinking in his thoughts: the knowledge that more often than not, he seems like a puppet. placed his prestige as the monarch on the guillotine, he’s nothing if not a mere insignia, plastered on the highest rank in this country. not that it bothers him that much, for it has always been the intended façade worn accordingly, devised by the previous king directly to ensure a son’s safety. he cannot ever defy such an intent, so here he is, donning the disguise of an airheaded king best used as none if not a tool. he’s anything but, yet not many need to know. turning the gears from behind the scene has always been his way of conducts… and the rest of the day? he’s occupied by this kind of visits, social ones to inflate the morales of those serving the country. it’s almost reminiscent of the days his father came to the base to acknowledge those on duty to protect the country.
today’s destination is the firehouse. he ensures that this visit is not as advertised, not as publicized. it simply doesn’t feel right, committing to all these while being shot in a frame. it feels like a way to place him on a grandeur pedestal, higher than it already is. he’s the king, after all, but having the cameras fixated on him at all times sometimes still feels suffocating. his arrival to the destination is definitely far from discreet, and there are some journalists to document the visit, but there aren’t many of them, fortunately. he proffers the curve of a formal smile at the camera as he exits the car, his royal guards securing the way for him. those attending this kind of event have known the code as well, providing enough path for him to enter the intended building. his entrance feels like attending a formal invitation, with the members bowing a good degree to maintain the sense of respect towards him. a steeled spine, his steps are assured as always. he heads towards the elevated, almost haphazard podium to give his speech, this one feeling almost succinct since he doesn’t have much to enunciate except for the gratitude, as well as words of encouragement.
and that’s when he catches the sight of her as he sweeps the hall with his eyes. his countenance shifts for a microsecond, not enough to be noticed. he has mastered this. retaining his composure, he continues the speech. the closure finally descends, and that’s when the crowd remains still, waiting for him to vacate the hall for a ‘tea time’. she happens to stay at the back of the rows, and for that, he catches her rather easily when she wears the demeanor that indicates she knows. he ceases his steps when he’s about to quit through the doors, causing some questioning glances to be fixed on him. stopping next to her, he gives her a look, slightly concerned as while he’s also in a mild panic, she seems more shaken than him. “are you alright?” he asks. “she seems pale,” he tells one of his royal guards. “can anyone give her some tea? any room that i can perhaps use to speak with her?” his request might be doubted for a mere second, but the firefighters around her are fast to respond. he’s being escorted to an office with her. once the door is shut with some tea served on the coffee table before them, he hums, eyeing her as they’re seated on the couches across each other. “i hope you’re doing fine, you seemed… fairly shocked back there.”
ft. @sweetmarzipan: su xiaoyan.
