Toni's thoughts

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎.

𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜’ 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠, 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

“𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝?”

𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑. 𝙷𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔.

𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎.

“𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?”

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍-𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚝.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗, 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚝.

𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍.

“𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙?”

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

“𝙼𝚢 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗,” 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢, “𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝚜𝚑𝚝𝚊 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚝?”

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚢.

“𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔,”

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑.

“𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜,”

𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜.

“𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎,”

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎.

𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚢.

“𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐?” 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

“𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝… 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜,”

𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍.

“𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝? 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗?”

𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔.

“𝚆𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜… 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚓𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚢.”

𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜’ 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

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The Wayne's were the guards and the soldiers. While your family were the rulers of a lavish the kingdom named, Ashta. The kingdom was founded by your ancestor who left home due to hate from the people in her community, and the Wayne family along with many others followed swearing their loyalty to her and her cause for change.

Still hundreds of years Ashta still stands the (L/N) family still hold the crown working side by side with their people, but now that responsibility falls to you...

Now that the decision has been made you've been put on lock down, study from 5 am till 8 pm and learning the art or swordsman ship from your personal guard (who is the best out of all of the Wayne family) Damian. He's annoyingly right all. Of. The. Time. Which obviously gets on your nerves, he talks down to you like you don't know how to use a sword properly, causing for arguments to constantly ensue during training.

"I know what I'm doing Wayne"

"obviously not if you're falling on your ass every time we spar"

He says with a smirk obviously happy that he can get such a reaction out of you, as he sweeps your legs from under you causing you to fall just like he said on your ass, before snatching the sword from you hand.

"HEY!"

"Training is over your highness"

He says walking away to put the swords back where it belongs with you still sitting on the ground mouth agape in awe and heavy irritation at how cocky he was.

"I am the princess of this country and your future queen. I will not tolerate your attitude commander.."

you say with mock irritation as you stand up from the ground dusting off the back or your training uniform before walking over to him with a bit of a bounce in your step.

"if you despised my attitude so much then why are you allowing me to court you? You also were the one who chose me as the one to train you"

he said turning to you with a matter of fact look on his face that says "keep trying." you roll your eyes at his words because he's always right...annoyingly.

"so...can I watch you train today?"

You ask, hopefully changing the subject. He usually says no to keep your relationship a secret. If the Ashtian people found out that the crown princess is rejecting all of the princes who offered wealth and power just to date the General, shit would go up in flames.

He turns to you with an expression that you know all too well one that's laced with a look of disappointment at the fact that you guys couldn't hang out more without prying eyes always watching you.

"..."

He lets out a sigh before looking at you in your eyes, those beautiful stressed eyes that he fell in love with all those years ago that carried too much stress for a child.

"My Queen... I do know how much you wish to you more time together, and I feel the same, but we can't risk anyone finding out about us..."

he says grabbing your hands from your side with a gentleness that's foreign to everyone else besides you

"they wont say anything because i am their future queen-"

Your voice getting a bit stern as you speak to him as you interlock your fingers with his

"(Y/N) They will never say anything to you since you are the future queen of this country, but I am just a general. Your parents could strip my title and my rights if they find out..."

"They wouldn't do something like that. My parents absolutely adore you. Why else would they allow us to spen-"

He clasps his hand over your mouth firmly. Your eyes widen at the action. He slowly reaches into his pocket pulling out a proposal necklace as he moves his hand away from your mouth.

"I want to be with you even if we can't...I carved this from Norsecole, it has healing properties it only lasts for 10 years"

He doesn't look you in the eye awkwardly tying the necklace around your neck. The pendant of it glimmering beautifully in the afternoon sun with a mix of gold, black, and green.

"I know it's not much comparing it to what you already have, know that I will protect you with all of my heart even if it kills me"

You stare at him with a dumbfounded look on your face before you pull him into a tight hug and peppering the right side of his face with kisses.

"let's just get married"

"Y/N.."

"I'm jesting..maybe"

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This took me over a month because I kept forgetting about it then writers block kicked in. Tell me if it not that good I'm just getting started fr so I want to get better. Also give me your opinions not on how the story will go it's already set on its course, tell me what I can do better ya know

He was wrong, so wrong.

Once they got to their first hour he was already done with you. He sat in the back near the window, and she followed and sat right next to him.

"Of all the available seats, you deliberately chose the one beside me."

"you should be grateful that I even decided to help you, Shakespeare"

You say dramatically as you put your stuff down on the floor next to your seat, feeling his eyes boar a hole Into the back of your head cause of the nickname.

"As if you have the slightest understanding of Shakespeare."

He shot back at you obviously irritated

"Boy please I've seen The Lion King and Gnomeo and Juliet over 50 million times, so I think I know a thing or two"

you say matter-factly with a triumphant grin on your face. Before he can argue back the teacher walked in, causing the groups of students scattered around the room to scramble to their seats causing the room to fall silent.

You hold back a laugh as you watch his cheeks and ears turn red with anger before he shoots one last glare at you before he opens his notebook completely ignoring you.

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It's been 35 minutes since you last verbally bothered Damian, throughout class you tapped your foot and didn't stop, when you did you drew on your hand the sound of your multi-colored pens Click, Click, Click irritated him, you looked around non-stop and looked over at his paper.

"at least she stopped talking"

He thinks to himself looking back at the board right when he looks down to start taking notes again, before his pen can even lightly graze the paper a hand with colorful flowers drawn from the base of her middle to right after her wrist.

"What"

He hisses swatting your hand away from in front of his paper as he continues to take his notes on Analytic Geometry.

"Can you explain what she just said I wasn't paying attention?"

"Is your attention span so limited that you can't focus in class?"

He asks sharply glaring your way but stopping short. Guilt. a strong sense of unknown guilt washed over him as he looked into your eyes. a feeling he's felt before but can't put his finger on why.

"fine"

He leaned in and quickly explaining what you were confused about, before leaning away and trying to focus on the board mindlessly taking notes, before turning back to you squinting a bit, muttering to himself

"I swear we've met before…"

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Sorry, this took so long every time I would click save as draft it would either delete it or save Pt.1 then Tumblr logged me out and I couldn't log back in

"Today is going to be a great day."

You stare at your reflection in your dorm bathroom mirror, leaning onto the sink to inspect your face. No glaringly red pimples—well, except for that one. Without hesitation, you pop it.

"I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it," you complain to yourself, grabbing a pimple patch and slapping it on.

With an approving nod to yourself, you back away, rush out of the bathroom, and immediately trip over a pile of clothes. You barely catch yourself before face-planting.

"Shit ok, note to self put these away before they actually kill me."

You shake it off, grab your backpack and cheer bag, and speed out of your dorm, locking the door behind you. As you make your way to the school building, you slip one AirPod into your ear and adjust your bags.

"Good morning!" you chirp, greeting every person you pass.

"You're late," a voice says the moment you reach the school stairs.

You scoff. "Nope, I’m right on time, actually."

Alex, one of your best friends since you transferred in the middle of ninth grade, rolls her eyes. The rest of your crew—Mia, Terra (yes, that Terra, the one who’s supposed to be dead), and Brinley—are already there, chatting about their schedules. After a few minutes of catching up, you all head inside to drop off your stuff before class starts. The last thing you need is to be late—especially since detention means suspension from the cheer squad.

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Damian Wayne hated school.

It was inefficient, mind-numbingly dull, and filled with people he had zero interest in interacting with... well that's what he told his father. But here he was black backpack strapped tightly on, security lock in place (only he and Alfred knew the combination), wearing the standard Gotham Public uniform in blue, white, and black. In his hands, a single sheet of paper listed his dorm and locker number, along with his class schedule on the back.

After several frustrating minutes, he finally located his locker. Right next to the bathroom.

"This is disgustingly unacceptable."

He scowled, reluctantly opening it and arranging his belongings inside. He grabbed his massive binder capable of holding twelve six-subject notebooks along with his sketchbook and pencil case.

BANG!

A locker slammed shut next to him, the noise so sudden and aggressive that Damian whipped around, fully prepared to fight.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with you.

"Are you new here?" you asked casually, balancing an absurd number of things—an oversized laptop that clearly wasn’t for schoolwork, a bag stuffed with library books, and a tiny, overstuffed backpack that was one bad tug away from falling apart.

But the thing that really made him frown?

That obnoxiously colorful pencil case sitting on top of your stack.

He scowled on instinct. You were chaotic. Loud. Distracting. He already disliked you.

"We have the same classes!" You say looking at his schedule over his shoulder "Cool. I'll show you around come on," already walking off without waiting for a response.

Damian blinked. Is she just assuming I'm going to follow her?

A part of him wanted to ignore you. Another part, the one that always sought information and efficiency, decided it was the most logical course of action. With an irritated sigh, he shut his locker and followed.

You lead him through the hallways, weaving through students while Damian silently trails behind.

“This is the cafeteria. The food is actually pretty good for a public school, but oh my goodness, whatever you do DO NOT try the mystery meat unless you wanna meet God early.”

Damian barely listens. He’s too distracted by the fact that ‘mystery meat’ even exists in a place meant for education and the absurd number of people who stop to talk to you.

Everywhere you go, someone waves says hi, or stops to chat. People throw out gossip, random compliments, and even inside jokes.

You know everyone.

It’s exhausting just watching you socialize.

Damian, used to go unnoticed unless he wanted to be seen, and he found it deeply irritating. He didn't like unnecessary attention. He didn't like small talk. And he definitely didn't like how effortlessly you commanded every room you walked into.

As you continue to weave through the crowded room, students keep stopping you some to say hi, some to ask questions, and a few just to gossip for the hell of it. Damian watches, mildly horrified, as you effortlessly jump from conversation to conversation.

"Anywho," you continue, not missing a beat, "the library is on the third floor, but I swear its haunted, so if you hear whispering, just keep it moving."

Damian raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

You stop and turn to look at him with the most offended look you could possibly muster. "Says the guy who has classes with me, meaning he takes Advanced Mythology AND Paranormal Studies. Boom."

He opens his mouth to argue but then immediately shuts it.

"Touche," he says after clicking his tongue in annoyance.

You grin before turning on your heels to continue the rapid tour. Makeing sure that the tour ends right outside of your first-hour class.

By the time the first bell rings, Damian has already learned several things: You are absurdly social, you have way too much energy for one person, you talk with your hands, aggressively. (He nearly got smacked twice already, you are completely, utterly, and unapologetically YOU.

And for reasons he can’t quite explain yet,

But, it doesn't annoy him as much as he thought it would.

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