Fire… Darkness... Screaming… Endless, painful screaming… A name was being called.
Liene…Liene…Liene…
"Liene!"
The brown eyes of the young, dark skinned woman shot open as the nightmares disappeared into the back of her thoughts, her gaze settling on the white ceiling. She slowly sat up, thin braided pieces of deep violet hair hanging back as she rubbed her head. The curtains were pulled open to let the warm, bright light of day spill in, blanketing the floor and bed the young princess slept upon. She weakly blinked, letting out a rather disgruntled groan.
"Princess Liene, it is time for you to have your breakfast and get dressed."
A soft, motherly voice with a thick British accent spoke, coming from a tan dark haired female at the end of the bed – the one who had just opened the curtains. Despite the woman's concerned voice and parental posture, she was not the mother of the young master. She looked to be a maid, with a long white dress that was ruffled at the bottom. A black ribbon was wrapped around her hair and pulled it into a tight bun, a similar piece of cloth tied around her waist.
The maid grabbed the silk sheets and brought them back to the edge of the bed, revealing the princess's bare legs and nightgown. No voice came from the depths of Quilliene's throat, only a solid and icy glare piercing the maiden's back as she turned and strut purposefully out the door of the room.
She entered again with a cart holding a plate with warm biscuits and a cup of tea, steaming and simply emitting comfort into the room without her even hafting to drink it. It was Earl Grey – her favourite kind – in a bone china cup, decorated with spiralling flowers that seemed to grow from the handle.
As she feasted on the biscuits and sipped the tea rather daintily with her pinky stuck out naturally, the maiden opened the large closet in the far left corner of the room. She swung many silks and fancy clothings about, mumbling quietly and folding things back up when she decided it wasn't good for the day's wear. The day – the day Quilliene would go home, to London, where she belonged. She was the heir, and she had turned eighteen nine and a half months before, and she was finally allowed to go home – finally chose to go home.
The maiden carried a black dress over to the bed, laying it out on the sheets. The base of it was velvet and soft, but the back part and sides that travelled down from the hips and ruffled out were silk, dark green and decorated with henna flower designs outlined with small white pearls.
Quilliene was made to stand and strip when she finished her biscuits, swiftly clothed with the dress and undergarments. It was joined with white slippers that she abruptly refused, for they always pinched her heels, and were replaced with brown boots that the maiden didn't seem too happy with - even though they weren't even visible. She looked around with her eyes as her hair was pinned back into a ponytail that didn't even seem to have a tie, but was torn from her wandering thoughts when she heard a voice. Male, and travelling down the hall, joined by a high and feminine chipper of another maid.
"Allison, did we have visitors today?" Quilliene asked, her voice rather casual as the addressed maiden flattened her dress profusely.
"Your father sent a personal bodyguard, your highness, but he was not to arrive until noon." The one called Allison answered, standing straight as Quilliene stepped away and towards the door.
"A bodyguard?" She questioned, her voice tinged with disgust. "What do I need a bodyguard for?"
"He insisted, your highness," Allison answered sheepishly, almost as if she feared that the heir would be angered with her.
As Quilliene neared the door, her boots clicking on the ground, the voice became clearer – unrecognised, and rather low and informal, meaning he wasn't a guard nor trained as one. It displeased her as much as it piqued her interest. She had taken bodyguards before, but they all resigned rather quickly. So why would her father send someone so casual sounding to protect her again? Who even was the mysterious man?
She moved out the door, the bustle of Allison behind her audible as the maiden scurried to call in someone else to clean the room, following Quilliene. She glanced around, looking for the source of the voice before her beautiful brown eyes landed on two figures heading down the right hall towards her. One of them was a short, younger maiden with a messy blonde bun, walking rather quickly to keep up with the man at her side. His pace was brisk but unsettled, and his appearance was far worse than Quilliene had suspected from his voice.
He wore black linen pants and dark boots covering his feet, accompanied by a white shirt under a red and black plaid flannel that was separated from either side, which had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands were in his pockets, his thumbs sticking out, his dark scarlet coloured eyes darting all over the place as he talked the maid's ear off while she scurried along, trying to interrupt but failing to. Worst of all, his hair was a mess, completely red and sticking out all over the place, as if he had never heard of a comb. He didn't seem much older than she was, which was strange. Perhaps in his very early twenties, with not even a beard to accompany his rather peculiar figure. Though he held no wrinkles or age marks, there was something dark hidden behind his gaze as they locked eyes.
"Is that him?" She asked Allison, praying silently to herself in hopes it wasn't.
"Y-yes, your highness," The maid answered, lowering her head as she came up beside Quilliene. "I didn't know he was…"
"Untrained?" She sighed, keeping her posture as she continued down the hall, Allison at her side.
"I would like to proceed with my walk before we pack up to leave," Quilliene spoke to Allison, glaring back at his smiling face as they closed the distance between them. "Do you know his name?"
"No, your highness," She said quietly, which only annoyed the heir more.
The taller man stopped halfway, leaving two metres of distance between them as Quilliene stopped, also. They stared at each other for a moment, the maids silent in their anxiety. Quilliene simply glared at him, as if waiting for him to speak. Finally, the one next to the stranger spoke up in a soft voice.
"I'm sorry, your highness, I tried to stop–"
"Should I bow or something?" the man interrupted, as if the woman didn't exist. His voice was thick in his accent - dark, yet chipper - but scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in a long while. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the side as if nervous. "I've never officially met royalty-"
"Stop," Quilliene held up a hand, her voice harsh and her glare even more fierce. "What are you doing in the manor? Heading to my room, no less? I did not ask for you to accompany me."
The man raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Then, as if taken over by some strange force, he laughed. A good, hearty chuckle that hit her like a wave from the sea. His gaze matched hers again, a twinkle in his red eyes as he simply smiled - a grin that burned into her very memory with no remorse.
Then, he said, "That's not how bodyguards work. You don't need to call for me to be here. I'm supposed to be here - whether you want me to be or not." He shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "It's apparently my job to keep track of you."
It was Quilliene's turn to be shocked. How dare he speak to her in such a way? Her, a member of the royal family, downgraded by some half effort commoner? She felt absolutely embarrassed to be in his presence, even his vicinity, and could feel the anger bubbling inside her chest. However, she remained calm.
She gave a rather obviously forced smile, and responded with a quiet, "Heh," Then spoke up. "That's silly. You're rather… peculiar, giving me that speech when you know exactly where you are. I may not need to call you, nor do I care for this job of yours, but…" She paused, glancing at him up and down. "I don't want you near me. Or bothering me. I hope that can be understood."
"That's nice to know," His smile was completely vacant then. "Too bad not everyone, not even the heir to the throne, can get what they want." He simply glared at her, keeping his eyes trained on her brown pair. "I doubt I'll be much of a bother, but it's a requirement to be with you at nearly all times. If you need, your highness" – he laced the word with venom, a hint of sarcasm splashed in – "I'll stay, at most, two metre's length from you, as long as I can see you."
Quilliene crumpled her hand into a fist, glaring at him with her striking cold gaze before she hummed curiously, her lips curled into a sinister smirk. "Interesting. This one is interesting…" She tilted her head to the maid at her side, Allison, before straightening it again towards the man before her.
"You best stay to your own terms, for… you don't know what you're going to piss off. I may look like a simple child, but that Your Highness role still stands high." The smile faded from her face as her eyes flickered, changing from their regular brown to a glowing violet.
Despite her words, he didn't seem phased, only raising an eyebrow in response as he slouched again and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm not scared of your threats," He said while glancing to the side. "Because if you keep flicking your guards away, daddy isn't gonna allow you back home. You'll never leave this place. At least, that's what he told me." He huffed, looking back at her, his previous childish demeanour turning to a much colder one. "That's simply a fact."
Quilliene let out a soft hum, debating on whether to order the man out of her sight or not. Her expression turned rather dull and calm though, as she decided it wasn't worth the effort if he would keep to his own rules. She just simply hoped he wouldn't be too much of a bother.
"Talking to me with such words…" She said lowly. "Daring. If you're going to follow, make sure to keep up. I don't enjoy waiting much, and I don't believe you would like to see me angry." She passed by him, arching around him in a wide half circle as she did.
The maid Allison held out a hand, rushing forward and biting her lip as she stood next to the red haired man. "Y-Your highness! Please, do not wander far!" The maid watched her strut down the hall purposefully, then turned her attention to the man with a fearful look in her eyes.
"Please, do not mind her. She used to be such a kind and sweet soul before… she changed; so dramatically. She'll get accustomed to you soon, but it will take a while, and… please, try and control her anger. Well, at least get her to hide it. Last time she lost herself, she… showed her magick to the humans. As demon servants, we cannot allow that under any circumstances, especially when the king and queen control our hearts. We love the child, but unless we soften her, she will not be a suitable heir…"
The man raised an eyebrow at her, then glanced at Quilliene. Demons? That had to be a weird term they used. With a deep breath, he waved the servant off, mumbling, "Yeah, whatever," Before following after the girl silently.
Quilliene heard the entire conversation, but she failed to show it on her face, keeping herself stubbornly calm in the threat of a new beginning. What a ridiculous encounter, She thought to herself bitterly. How dare he threaten her with her father's words? She would go home - and if that required dealing with a sarcastic fool the entire way, that was exactly what she would do.