"Your Majesties. Bronwyn of Elrandal sends her greetings,"
Eldritch, the Empress turned to face her, "Sit child. You must be tired, I'm not in the mood to attend to guests tonight, so you might find us a little less hospitable."
"No, no no! It's fine. I totally understand."
When the prince noticed how she continued to stare at her feet, the awkwardness in the room palpable, he held her hands,
"It is fine mother. We were just leaving, I'm too impatient to wait until after dinner to have the company of my woman."
She watched him in admiration, his words reverberating through the room to show he was entirely displeased with the odd welcoming she received. Then he led her out of the dining hall.
"You must be tired,"
The princess squealed when he gathered her in his arms, carrying her like she weighed nothing. Her pulse surged sporadically, but she smiled, pressing her nose against the crook of his neck, loving the nice scent of the perfume he wore,
She noticed a few odd things as they walked along the hallway; the palace only had a few guards in the main royal chambers, the staircases spiraled in different directions, and lastly, there were intricate markings that formed a swirl at each hallway.
The sound of his feet echoed in the empty path as he sauntered over, then they entered through a corridor into what was supposed to be the kitchen.
She opened her eyes just as he gently placed her over the marbled island. Walking away from her, he rummaged through some things, picking up plates and wine glasses. She scrutinized him, watching the fine arch of his back as they strained against the fabric he had on.
Her fingers twitched, aching to touch him, longing to feel the swell of his muscles under whatever he had on. She bit her lips,
"What are you doing?" She inquired.
Not bothering to face her, he spoke, "Making you something to eat." washing both hands, he began to skillfully cut open some things.
The next few minutes had been filled with the prince placing a small pan atop the fire that burned where the meals was prepared. He diced up some garlic, onion and pepper, he cautiously fried them on low heat when he added bits of olive oil to it.
Cutting up some chunk of beef, he kneaded it softly,. marinating it in the sauce he had somehow prepared in the short span of time. The aroma filled the kitchen when he added some seasoning, cutting up the marinated beef to the mixture he fried.
He carefully placed the plates closer, lifting the pan and filling the plates up. Lucien tuned back with the plate and glass of wines in his other hand he still managed a smile.
"god, you look like you could eat me instead,"
Taken aback by his words, her eyes widened and she quickly looked away from him, pushing the strands of hair that stuck to her head behind her ears.
She squeaked out, "I am... I'm sorry...I didn't mean to stare."
Pushing the plate forward on the island, he dropped the glass down, chuckling when he moved towards her, leaning so their lips nearly met.
"I don't mind." he muttered lazily.
Bronwyn's lashes fluttered from confusion, "Huh?"
He tucked the loose strands she hadn't been able to behind her ear, abruptly jerking her chin upwards, "I don't mind."
Swallowing hard when realization dawned on her, she pushed her tongue out, running it across the seams of her lips. His lips curled back to reveal fine rows of teeth, his gaze glued to the small movement of her lips when they parted open. Then he reached up to pull out a bottle of wine from the cabinet behind her.
"I didn't know you could cook,"
He arched a brow, "Oh, little minx. There's a lot you don't know about me."
He popped the wine cap, pouring out a desirable amount of the crimson liquid that slushed and swirled in the glass. Handing a glass over to her, he forked up a piece of meat, lifting it to her she instinctively opened her mouth, biting on the piece of meat.
A small sound rumbled though her chest when the juicy deliciousness spread through her taste buds, her eyes shut tight on their own accord when she savored the taste.
"This tastes so good!"
"Eat as much as you can, it's all yours."
She nodded, halting just as she was about to bring the meat to her mouth, "Do you cook for every female you've come across?"
"You're the first," without hesitation, he replied as-a-matter-of-fact.
He shrugged, swiping the pads of his tongue over her lips to wipe off the sauce that spread across her lips, then the playfulness in his face vanished, replaced by a cold and calculating gaze.
"My parents made a mess. I'm sorry you had to witness that, heck! This is your first day here and their behavior doesn't paint the ideal picture."
Picking up the fork, she forked up another piece of meat, chewing before taking a swig from the contents in her glass.
"I don't blame them, really. I've watched my parents run the affairs of Elrandal and I know how much it can be an hassle. Elrandal is nothing compared to Narva, ruling takes a toll on the mind."
He tutted, sucking his teeth, grounding his molars to dust when a muscle strained in his jaw, "I try. I know it can never be enough and my presence obviously doesn't help matters that much. But I just want to take the burden of their shoulders and–" Lucien scoffed, snickering, "What is it you do, huh, my little minx? Why do I feel so at ease with you? Sharing too much? Huh?"
She glanced at him, wondering what he meant this time, "I do not quite understand your words, your highness."
"That is why you're fitting to be my queen. Your innocent will be my undoing."