>>6037225Albrecht Von Herrman, prince and heir to a throne, locks his lips with Anastasia, the peasant.
Your heart races, your blood stills, you feel tears threaten to break from the corner of your eyes, and the crowd claps. The crowd gathered at the Mageknight academies ball, the academy funded by your family claps as their princess’ fiancé kisses another woman. All while she is in attendance. Anastasia looks to be the happiest woman in the world, she looks adoringly into the prince’s eyes as he looks back. You want to throw up, is this some kind of twisted joke?
Your body moves without you needing to command it, you march straight to the center of the ballroom as the audience gasps. “What is the meaning of this charade?!” You shout as the two-part from one another.
Against any of your inner wishes, Albrecht moves in front of Anastasia like he is defending her from you. Why? If anything he should be defending you against her, you’re his fiancé and she’s trying to break the bond between the two of you. “Lorina, it would do you well to not get any closer,” he says.
“What do you mean?! What do you think you’re doing with <span class="mu-i">her</span>?!”
“I’m choosing to live my life free of the contracts you’ve forced me into, free from your conniving ways.”
“C-conniving?! What in the Goddess’ name are you talking about?”
“Alby, I’m scared,” The pitiable voice of Lyndale whispers, if anyone is conniving it’s her-
“There is nothing to worry about, my dear,” Albrecht says as he takes her hand before looking to you, “I’ve seen your hate-filled glares, seen your attempts to undermine the love between me and Ana and I refuse to allow it a moment longer! Admit it Lorina, you’ve only been after my throne, you’ve never loved me for who I am, not like Anastasia has!” He says his voice filled with conviction. From the corner of your eyes, you see the crowd look upon him with respect and admiration as his four friends walk up behind him.
“That’s- no- I- that-” You stutter your emotions overwhelming you as tears do form, the crowd looks on, and mocking whispers present themselves. You’re being treated as some sort of villain and you cannot even muster the words to defend yourself.
“Do you have no rebuttal? So it is true then,” The prince glares at you, “Leave, Lorina, your schemes are through-” He is interrupted by the smacking sound of your glove hitting the floor. You didn’t even realize you threw it until it was on the ground, you don’t even know if it was intended for Lyndale or Herrman, you’re not sure if you even know now.
“Pick it up!” You shout finding yourself able to say nothing else. Just then his four friends, Percival de Bloodgrave, Cyrus de Atle, Felix de Gray, and Hugo Von Brandt, stand protectively at his side. No one steps up beside you, no one shouts in your defense, no one sides with you, the villain.
