Chapter Twenty Seven

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT]

27•••

It is of no question, Lisa will be sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms when she returns. Three days could not come soon enough, but eventually, finally, your best friend will return home. And to a luxury king sized bed, for that matter.

"Ought Lisa be too modest for this?" Jennie questions, bouncing on the edge of the linen covered mattress as the maids turn up the room for Lisa's welcome.

You let out a chuckle in response, "Lis has yet to tell you how many attempts she's made to sneak in my own bed at night." you fluff the pillows for a third time, expecting for it all to be the perfect warm welcome for when she arrives.

And when father comes around to notice, not that his duties would grant him the time, Lisa will probably decide to transfer back to the space of her own room. As many times as you let your best friend join you in bed, she always slipped out after a few hours or so to be wrapped in her own blankets.

Although, you hope she would last a couple days in the guest room while she eases out from the hospital. You nitpick at every detail- turn the flower vase ever so slightly to the right, fold and unfold the hand towelettes of the bathroom, pull the curtains closer only to widen them apart. 

Jennie watches you flutter around the room until you are satisfied, and you are too focused on rolling out specs of lint off the drapes to realize the maids have finished and left. Your face heats up, and you think a bright shade of red tints your cheeks at the way Jennie looks at you. Her lip caught between her teeth and her eyes shamelessly roaming all of you.

"What?" you ask, overlooking your sundress, "Have I got the lint on me?" you twirl around, trying to see the back end.

You turn back to Jennie unanswered and she shakes her head with a grin, "You just look beautiful standing by the light" she says as if it is a given. But the compliment melts your insides like it is the first time she has ever called you beautiful.

A throat clearing cough comes out of you in your modesty, and you suddenly don't know where to put your hands or where to look or if you should continue to stand there or not. Luckily, Jennie answers it for you. She extends her hand, and when your fingers intertwine she pulls you in and stares up at you with raised cheekbones and a sigh of content. Her hands fall to your waist, squeezing as you sink against her and snake your hands to the back of her neck, smiling down at her yourself.

She spreads her legs apart, urging you to fall between, "I apologize for ruining this."

You cock your head and your heart misses a beat at her words.

Jennie winks and in one swift movement, you're on the bed and under her, "The duvet!" you exclaim in laughter and regret when you realize what she meant. She laughs with you, her lips descending on your neck and pressing you deeper into the mattress to wrinkle the sheets, "After how many times I had done and redone this?" you joke.

"Let me be the one to make up for it then" her hands are all over you like her eyes were, and you feel yourself submitting to her within the seconds that go in her touch.

"I know you well enough to expect no tidying up from you. Shall I ring Wendy in?" your breath hitches when she licks your sweet spot and it signals the heat of your core to buck your hips to hers.

It's been a while. Ever since your loss of control with Jennie, you haven't found yourselves tangled in each other like this. Other than the bruising kisses and feathered touches, you and Jennie haven't indulged any further- not that it was uncalled for or unnatural or anything of the sort, but because of busy schedules and vanilla escapades, and not to mention your synced cycles of menstruation had occurred at such prompted timing.

Perhaps, it was a cause for your overwrought emotions and overthinking last week, but now that the red had stopped seeping and the desires flare un-candid in your moans as Jennie touches you, you can't put the blame on hormones as you think to stop because you're afraid you might hurt her again.

You lack trust in your own body- wonder when the thirst will reach the brim or the crave will hunger for too much.

Jennie moans in your mouth, dominating your tongue with every stroke- and she has no trouble taking over the reins as she holds your hands and pins your arms above your head, grinding down while she devours you.

Your dress hikes up with every thrust of her hips and when the belt of her jeans grazes your clothed clit, you moan loudly. The silk of your panties dampen and the pulse intensifies as Jennie moves. Pulling away for air, Jennie's hot breath hits the crook of your nape, spreading the heat through your body and her grunts are pleasure to your ears.

She swings her leg over yours and when her knee hits your center, you know you can't stop from getting this release.

Her name drips off your lips like honey, breath rapid in the escalating endeavors. You open your legs, moving to her rhythm as she finds a steady pace to rock her hips on your thigh and her knee grazing against your wet folds.

Jennie pushes her front up, heavy lidded eyes boring into you. Her mouth is parted beautifully in taking in the pleasure with each grind. She gasps when you flex your leg, pushing up to meet between her. And the tingles of your stomach crawl its way to your trapped hands.

You burn to strip her off those jeans and feel her hot wetness smear all over your skin. The need is just as powerful and strong as the internal force telling you not to do exactly that. You don't trust yourself.

Jennie loosens her grip on one hand and holds down your wrists with just the other. She brings her forefinger to your covered clit and all your thoughts cloud with pleasure when she flicks your bud rapidly, "Oh Jennie-" your eyes shut and back arches, "Please" you feel the warmth shooting down to your stomach and your muscles tense in heightened sensations.

Jennie keeps going. She rocks harder and faster, her breathing getting heavier as she goes. And she centers on the wet patch of your underwear, rubbing over your folds like she would push in with the soft fabric between. You bite your lip hard enough to cut it open in favor of keeping quiet, but whines and moans imbue the air in your arousal.

You open your eyes to hers full of sultry. Her moans grow louder and you know she's close. "Fuck Rosie" her jaw slacks, chest pants faster. You push your knee higher and the way she moves— rides on you is erotic in itself- the way she cums is amorous, "Oh!" watching her fall apart brings you so much closer to the edge- your stomach coils.

"J-Jennie—" you jolt when she tugs your panties aside, "Uh!" and drives you to your climax with just a single finger. With your stomach coiling, body tensing, and eyes rolling to the back of your head, your release rips right through you when she curls her finger to a come-hither motion, "Jennie fuck—" you whimper in sheer satisfaction, trembling under her as she drops down on you, wet kisses trailing lower to replace her finger with her tongue.

Your freed hands get lost in her hair, pushing and pulling while she laps your folds. She curses against you, licking, and sucking- swallowing your slur. You are in complete bliss at the feeling of her and the slick sounds of her tongue run shivers down your body. And she's so gentle, and caring in the way she eases you down like this that you pull her up and kiss her just as softly to let her feel the same.

She lies beside you, and you cradle her face in your tender hands, hovering over just enough to handle this moment for her to feel you like this.

You are careful with Jennie. Bidding and affectionate to settle the fire to an enkindled flame you two share. You adore her, with passion and purpose.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

She giggles at your pester of kisses, "I surprised myself, to be fair"

"I better request for new beddings"

Jennie is coy, "Lisa needs not to know"

"Good god" You both laugh in the imagination of Lisa's face have she find out what you two had been doing on her bed prior to her arrival. Just one of those spur of the moment encounters.

      It becomes rather difficult to keep your hands off each other from then on. You wouldn't dare brush your hand against Jennie's or stare a little too long, a little too endearingly at her while Ms. Choi and the coronation organizers are around. There is so much Jennie could do to you with so little.

To glorify her with significant distance between is what you do to the fullest extent as you both tend the day with work. And it is the most that could help you endure the arduous day, just as Jennie always gets you through. Never mind the complications with bouquet orders or larger matters like the change of security protocol with the indifferent views of the people in anticipation that a riot might outbreak in the middle of the ceremony- it is secondary worry because you find solace in Jennie's mere presence.

From the meetings to the practices and to the hospital to pay Lisa a visit, you are safe with Jennie.

And to comfort her from the strains she too felt of today is the least you could do, but you give it your entirety in every way you can to help her relax. "Do you prefer a seafood pasta or a meat dish for dinner?" you ask Jennie, who lies restless on your bed. You dial the line to the kitchens to relay the menu requests.

"Pasta"

"With cold tea?" you know she loves it iced.

She concurs with the cluck of the tongue, "Why yes, please."

You tell Chef Dahyun everything the way Jennie likes it. A little less oil on the pasta sauce and just a pinch of salt will do- no crust on the garlic bread and a tad more dressing on the salad- ice cold berry tea with a side of sugar cubes- "Dessert?" you ask Jennie, and you had ought to turn and see the toying smirk on her face to avoid such a surprise in the next beat. 

But the phone goes crashing from your hand when she replies nonchalant, "You."

"J-Jennie" you scold, picking up the phone with fumbling fingers and returning to Dahyun, "H-How about a- a pie!" you suggest, a conspicuous pitch in your tone, a louder one, in nerves that your chef had heard Jennie's rather lewd remark. "Pie, Jennie?" you imply with your pinning eyes and thin smile to respond accordingly.

She pulls on a thinking posture, then a seductive gaze at you "Creampie?"

You choke on your breath, "Christ—" you're aghast, wide-eyed, speechless as Jennie chortles at her teases- so wanton and sensual that you clench your legs instinctively.

"Princess Roseanne?"

You stammer over your words, running 'strawberry pie' off your tongue before cutting the line and sucking in a breath, "She could have heard you" you berate, though the grin plastering on your face is contradicting your tone of voice. Jennie is just so adorably rolling on her back, smiling from ear to ear in a fit of giggles.

"Your face was priceless, darling!" 

Your legs take you to the bed, and you plant your palms to either side of Jennie's head as she lies upside down to you. You loom over her with a shake to the head, just before captivating her giggles in a kiss. A hearty, little kiss that flitters butterflies in your stomach. Call yourself weak for Jennie's adorability.

And when you pull away, Jennie tries to chase you with her hands, surely to pull you into bed for an intimate affair, but as tempting and delightful as it would be, you know it is not the cure to the pounding headache and sore back she has acquired from hard work. Therefore, herbal medicine and an innocent hand massage is what she is granted with tonight.

You are the cause for a few pouts and stubborn retaliations for a while, but over time, with your back against the headboard and Jennie's lying on your front, she loosens to relaxation in the roll of your thumbs on her shoulder blades and the delicate pecks here and there. You are able to take her out of the twinges in her muscles and between bubbly, lighthearted conversations of simple things, she drifts to slumber in your arms.

You stay with Jennie. You hold her, kiss her, and love her in the quiet, the safe haven of your amour.

•••

      To retreat, hide away in your harbor is all you wish to do at this very moment.

"It is lovely to see you once again, Princess."

What sort of an ambush—

"The pleasure is all ours, Your Highness."

"Thank you for having us."

Bewildered, thrown off by unexpected visitors upon entering the dining room, you spin around and face Ms. Choi, and this is without a doubt your father's doing, as her averted gaze to the ground speaks last minute invitations for brunch and the red face and pair of dagger eyes next to her tell you Jennie hadn't been informed of such a spontaneous gathering either.

You turn back to the tailored men, dressed in fashionably formal suits like you had last seen them at the ball, and wearing kind smiles, standing around the table of set cutlery.

"Have a seat, Your Highnesses." and Sir Jungkook feels awfully comfortable telling you what to do in your holy grail.

An unwanted, unsolicited gathering indeed.

"We are full of gratitude to be welcomed once again in your court, Princess Roseanne" Vernon evades with his gentlemanliness, and Mark, humble and meek in demeanor smiles awaiting your next move.

To be candid in politely asking they leave for you and Jennie to have the meal as just the two of you, as it was supposed to be, is sitting at the tip of your tongue. Frankly, you ought to tell them never to return as you have no interest indulging in anything more than a superficial acquaintance. You should. Tell them there are other matters for you to address- you will make up a few in case there aren't enough- and you will apologize sincerely for the inconvenience this brings on them. (Apologize for your father not informing you is more so what you itch to say).

You really should, "I'm afraid—"

"Please, have a seat" You're startled by Jennie's bright voice behind. Perhaps, a greater surprise than the suitors' presence. She brushes past you and gestures for the men to sit respectively. Jennie claims the chair next to Jungkook, "Apologies for keeping you boys waiting." she looks at you, eyes beckoning to take the seat across from her, the vacancy beside Mark.

You get there inch by inch, wondering what Jennie is playing at.

She exchanges hellos and how do you dos, shaking their hands and smiling and even giggling when they remark something meant to be amusing as if she was not just plotting their demise merely seconds ago. Not to mention, she was so keen on sending the man at the side of her now to the slaughterhouse days before. And here she is, taking her seat with them, while you at the same time have no inkling but to follow in your silent confusion.

"I was rather relieved to receive your invitation in the mail, Your Highness- I thought you had forgotten about me quite quick," they laugh at Mark's commentary, but stun is in Jennie's eyes.

Much more yours, "A-And when were you able to receive the invitation?" you ask, trying your best to perceive all-knowing of their coming, but the uncomfortable aura around you must be radiating.

"The other day, if I recall" Mark smiles at you, his brown orbs shining. You force a gleam in return.

"I have to say," Jungkook props his elbows on the table, startling you with such poor table manners, "I discerned this as a one-on-one engagement" even with the slightest lean he takes in, you get the strongest whiff of his tobacco, "but I sit corrected."

You swear, you hear Jennie scoff under her breath.

"Indeed you do, Sir" Vernon nudges Jungkook's elbows down, almost glaring at him with those kind eyes, "Though I am certain you are thankful, nonetheless." and they soften when he turns to you, friendly gazing.

Eliciting any sentence without stuttering is impossible over conversation, because as meals are served and consumed, it is all conversation you are urged to join in. Pointless, superficial, and forthright, boring topics of hobbies and interests that go on and on are in no means supposed to be awkward or the sort, but you find yourself stammering and sputtering fragmented phrases because you are too occupied searching for a hint in Jennie's expression, one that means stand up and tell them to leave, especially with Jungkook's subtextual (borderline sexual?) remarks toward you. But Jennie remains poise and cordial, finishing your sentences when you come wordless, and as main courses are cleaned and desserts are devoured and a palace tour is called for, you reside that you are to entertain your guests for how ever long you must-

"Care to show us what is in here?"

Or how ever long you can.

"There is no need- n-nothing is in there," you track back, behind the group where Jungkook reaches for the door to the music room, "Really there's nothing Jungkook" you don't want him to touch your mother's treasures- you haste forward, anxious.

Mark tries to help, "Leave it be, Sir Jungkook"

"There is nothing, you say?" he twists the knob regardless and he peers in—

Your heart skips a beat "D-Don't—"

You're shouldered by Jennie's stride, and she slams the door shut before he could widen it any more. The pinning glare is back in her feline eyes and she stares unfiltered at the boy, "She said there is no need." crossed and foiled with his behavior. She has fired up in the few steps she took to stop him.

"I'm afraid, it is time we part ways." you say immediately. You've had enough of this, you didn't want this in the first place.

Jungkook retorts rudely, "What?"

"Did I stutter?" speaking comes easy now that you're irked and over being polite. You care less with intentions to never cross paths with Sir Jungkook in particular, ever again.

Jennie's irritation is unbothered, tiger eyes ready to prance at the next sign of rebuke. You apologize to both Vernon and Mark for saying your goodbyes this way, and when the two men offer to see themselves out in understanding, they take the stubborn and nosy boy with them and out of sight.

You sigh of relief.

"I swear to god, that man is dead"

In the next second, you take Jennie's clenched fist in yours and pull her into the music room.

"Rosie, I'm so sorry- we should have just told them to leave in the first place" her annoyance turns to regret and she runs her hands over your arms, widening her stance in front of you as you rest your weight against the door. Your energy has gone all of a sudden, taken by the heap of imagination- callous hands touching mother's piano- you're not even sure why it peeves you so much. "I was wrong to encourage you to join them- and sit there with Jungkook's lack for proper decorum and ill-manners and I'm an absolute idiot—"

You stop her apologies and reassure you see no fault in her. Had you not given them any attention at all, your father would have your head. You just know it was his doing to send invitations in your name- you must have shoved the fact that he is waiting for you to choose a husband so far back in your head that this wouldn't have had to be so unexpected if you hadn't repressed it.

And dear god a husband— you would never— it is only Jennie—

"Hey"

But how and when and what would you say- after all these months, you still have no idea- after all these months, you are surely running out of time.

"Baby" Jennie seizes you back to her, stroking her thumbs on your heated face before your scorching thoughts might turn you to ashes. "Stay with me, love" she pulls you in her embrace, chest to chest with your rapid heartbeat pacing down to her calm and collected-ness.

She asks what had gone through your mind just now, so you tell her about your father and who he wishes you would choose to sit next to you on the throne. How picking from the three suitors is the closest to a liberated decision- the only option aside an arrangement- the only option at all.

"It's not fair" it twists your insides, wrenching out every drop of your wishes, leaving you like a dirty rag of wrinkled dreams and dried passions, "I just want you" you say, and it is above the quiet whispers you always spoke in of your love for Jennie. You want to say it even louder, because it is not enough that she is the only one to hear- you want everybody to know that this love exists- that it is possible. Marcadia and the world if you could, let all know you are utterly, unconditionally, wholeheartedly in love. "It is only you, Jennie" you don't want to love somebody else.

•••

You and Jennie spend the rest of the day out of the palace, taking a breather and using the time to spend with Lisa in her last few days at the hospital. Here, you are able to forget about the indifferences of the monarchy and who ever else would have something against two Princesses in love. You set aside all matters royalty, in fact, and everything out of your mouth is playful and friendly in bliss conversations with Jennie and your best friend.

Lisa has been recovering well. The pain still seers her to tears at most times, but wounds are healing and scars are ensured to fade. And her mentality and emotional states are healthy considering the terribly brutal- the public display of her hurt and retribution.

Her humorous and snarky commentaries are substantial to the Lisa you have known all your life.

If anything had to change, then it is just one. And perhaps, the most dejecting one of what could have been- that Lisa no longer holds onto love with the resolve and tenacity in freedom like she used to, but locks love in a box with the ungranted future and possibilities, buried in the ground that her and Sehun wish they could walk with no consequence.

Once you step foot out of the hospital, the despondencies come rushing in again. Rightfully, Jennie too feels the grey areas of these recent days. You see it in her under-eyes and hear it in her sighs. And though Jennie had given you wondrous and diverting thrills, the days were always fickle. Some blatantly draining and others like an itch begging to be scratched until you give in and bleed. And the constant heaviness of what could be anxiety or fear or guilt, you can't be sure anymore, it stands close to you like your own shadow following your every move- harrowing, for nothing you do is ever the right thing.

You feel weary and defenseless from the ordure. How easy it is to feel tired of trying. Impossible as it seems, to make the right choices.

You know everything comes with a consequence.

And your father had warned you of this.

"What are you doing?"

You just didn't imagine mother would really be the price.

"Yeri— Suho wait—" you pry at the arms of your royal guard carrying your painted canvases out of your crafts room. He apologizes under his breath, muttering the King's orders as him and the servants follow. "N-No stop please" In the rush about the room, your heart stops beating. You scram around, taking paintbrushes and tubes and what paintings you can carry away from the people who will take them from you. Your senses are shot and body numb but your mind wires you to move and move quick because they are touching your treasures- they're taking what isn't theirs— "Get out" you demand, clutching on to what you can while using the strength you have to push your royal guard out of the room, "I said get out!" your voice shakes them all.

"Rosie" Jennie finds you in the commotion, coming up to the door as servants leave with the last of your belongings.

"Jennie help me" please the paintings—

"I settle you speak with King Mason, Your Highness" Suho grasps at your pounding fist and rests it down gently, looking at you with sad- pathetic eyes—

"You bastard" you snatch your hand from him, his touch like sandpaper. Overwhelming emotions rise in your chest as trust is emptied, "Leave me" you order, holding tight to the one painting and hand full of materials you manage to keep. You turn your back and prop them on your stand, not willing to actually watch Suho walk away from you, nonetheless show how much it tears you apart that he is doing this.

"Yes, Your Highness" he mumbles, and his footsteps echo down the hall until the corner where you can't hear or only until your muffled ears fill with your shortened breaths and stifles to brimming tears.

This was not one of your hobbies or mischiefs father disproved of- this was never just for you and your selfish desire for free-spirit- this was for your mother and the consolation that she hasn't been forgotten- that her absence is missed in every stroke of paint. Every one of them held the thought of her. She was embodied in flowers and petals but she's been picked apart and she's being taken from you all over again.

"Rosie" a gasp of a cry escapes your lips once Jennie wraps her arms around you from behind, "I'm sorry, love- I've got you" she whispers in your ear, trying to soothe you in hushed tones and comforting hands, but you feel her heart beating fast against you and you don't think you could keep worrying Jennie any more than you already have.

"I'm going to speak with him" you state, swallowing thick and propping yourself right on both feet. You want answers and for every second without them, you sink deeper into the mess of your mind. Surrendering to tears will only prolong the desolation.

"Now?" Jennie tries to keep you in her arms, but you slide her hands off slowly, turning around and nodding your head in response, "Rosie, let's talk about this first" she wipes what tears had already fallen, empathy glazed in her concern.

You still have an apology to make up for, "I will also tell him of the proposition of separating trade" and you need not to delay a moment longer.

"A-Are you sure?" she tries to catch you out the door, but you move swift and hastily, "Rosie, are you certain—"

"Wait for me, Jennie" you stop, only to take her hands in yours and kiss them softly, "In the lounge, I will come to you" when the dispute is over, where she won't have to see it. "I will take care of this" you will do what you can.

•••

"In the time you were to select a suitor of amatory interest, you had discourteously shoo-ed them out of the palace in favor of visiting Ms. Manoban at the hospital- and you question why your painting comes of consequence?"

"Going to see Lisa was originally scheduled for this afternoon, therefore had nothing to do with the fact that I refused to bestow any more of my time to suitors who hold no interest of mine at all- I do not want to marry either of them, father" you distressed.

You tell Jennie everything you and your father discussed in his threshold. The questions answered in projected voices and booming conviction and the dilemmas uncovered.

"This is treated as one of your duties as Princess and I told you, Roseanne, what I would do have you fall in shortcomings."

It was hopeless for father to give you back your canvases. You knew it going in there, and when he lifted his eyes to you from his desk of papers, he knew he had to deal with silencing you once again. Only, you directed matters to greater prominence and it was the revelations that of the Northern King and council that had rendered your father speechless upon hearing them for the first time.

The moment felt like forever. The shift in your father's dull eyes were uncanny, you almost wanted to capture it in a photograph- proof he is still capable of feeling. And as the words flowed in his ears, his expression befuddled and confusion flushed- his gaze averted- then his features tightened in a gulp like digesting the realization of what came out of your mouth. He was voiceless against you for the first time.

He was silent, and you felt like you had won somehow.

"I did not raise an imbecile, Roseanne."

But resilience always comes back to bite you.

"Why would you ever compromise your rule?" he stood from his chair, looked down from his pedestal.

You didn't understand. How quick his eyes flared as the temper lifted his almighty and how small you felt- kicked to the dirt.

"By the time your pitiful proposal processes through both councils, you will be the ruler on the throne- you will be the one to govern over the economic setback this will put on the South."

You didn't want to believe it, "There must be another way to gather resources without—"

"Have there been another way, I would have turned my back on King Tae-oh once my arse sat on the throne thirty years ago!" he shouted, shook the walls and the riddled you inside. You stood grounded and firm, but wavered inside while he spat his words at you, "It is no question that the North is far advanced and equipped compared to us, Rosé, and it is the hardest of all to accept with pride and honor, but it is the truth." perhaps it was, the truth, the one thing you could agree on- something you both wish you didn't have to believe, "We rely too heavily on the Northern region to survive." he said, painfully clear and honest, "I cannot differ that the North's economic state will suffer in the coming years along our side, but I cannot discount our kingdom approaching its downfall just to save another." and his eyes narrowed at you in spite, suffocating you with the one thing you wish not to compromise, "The Princess, your dear friend, surely knew of the impact this would situate on you and your sovereignty."

"I didn't know." Jennie says, voice unsteady after everything you have just told her. Struck, she runs her hands through her hair, looking everywhere else but you standing weak on trembling knees and being buried under cascading morality for discernment because again for god's sake, like you always end up, you are uncertain of what to do next, "My dad failed to tell me all of the truth, but your father is right- there are consequences to the South with the separation of trade. I should have known better." she resides with your father's disclosure and the frustration is apparent in her, directed to her dad's lack for thorough communication.

You understand she feels let down, and perhaps even humiliated for bringing it up without a cohesive plan, but you see no harm in her actions thus far, "Still, your dad wants this for the North," for the kingdom and its people, "I will find a way to retain sufficient needs for us here—"

"No," Jennie interrupts you, rigid on her statement, "You won't, Rosie. There is no other source. The proposition is off, and that is that." she speaks inflexible but her eyes falter when they try to meet yours.

It stings. How certain she is that the South will plummet once cut off from the North- that she thinks you won't be able to save it, but you pay it no mind. You want this proposal to push through and prevent whatever suffering may come upon Marcadia- it would indubitably save half of it.

This is more than just asking for total forgiveness like she said she will accept. That of for the worst of your wrongdoings. This is in return for everything she has done, "Let me do this for you, Jennie" you will take on the trials and tribulations on your side of the crown.

"Stop it Rosie" she says, and you look at Jennie with desperation, at the wash of unfavorable emotions paling her skin by the second. It runs chills down your body to see her like this, an unexplainable alarm for the way she looks at you with hardened, though pained eyes, "Do not give up your kingdom for me." she says it with such adversity, "The proposal is off,"  like the final judgement has fallen into place and it is definite, "and so is this."

You step forward- suppose, you couldn't see her clearly from where you stood- misread what she meant to say as impassiveness, "What is this exactly?" you hope not the world you made for just the two of you.

"Ruling two kingdoms as if they can be one" she looks at you sternly, honestly. Not like Jennie at all- not the Jennie you had only moments before.

"What are you saying?" it seems more than just politics and empire out of her mouth- you hope you are hearing this all wrong.

But Jennie shakes her head, and she speaks of what swarms in her mind, stresses her unfiltered words for you to swallow them whole and you feel like choking, "We can't possibly be together like this when our families— our people are opposed to everything we believe in. The government, the laws- love—"

"Then we will change it" you deride, and you search for the Jennie you know, lost in those feline eyes. And when you find her again, hold her hand and pull her out, you promise you won't let go, "We will convince them to look differently- look to unity- I will tell my father that I love you Jennie" I will tell everyone that I do.

"There is no need"

Please "Love, I—"

"I don't want to love you anymore, Rosie!" Jennie says.

She curses your name, "I do not want this any longer." she looks at you in tears.

Every drop ruins you.

Like acid rain pouring down from shattered skies, drenching all the tomorrows you built with Jennie to dissolve in the future.

Every drop of yours is for her love slipping from your fingers.

"That's not fair" she can't un-love you just like that.

"Nothing about this is fair- ever since the beginning—"

"I told you we couldn't be together from the start!" you did. She knows you did and she can't even look at you telling her again, "I told you and- and even then I didn't stop loving you Jennie. I couldn't- I can't— I chose to be brave just like you said- What happened to being brave Jennie?" You trenched through everything that scared you of this love because she was one step ahead, she believed in this, told you to believe in it too. "What happened to 'I won't ever leave you, Rosie' or 'you're the love of my life, Rosie'"

Jennie raises her voice above yours, but it trembles in its integrity- you just want to hold her- "I wish I could have both, Rosie, I do." she says, and this, she adheres to, "But the kingdoms are not in favor of unity. If we do not separate ourselves, they will do it for us."

You know this is all in intentions to protect the regions and to protect you both from what has happened to everyone else fallen in the unfairness of love. You know it in your heart that it is in hers, but what happened to changing the kingdoms for the people like us?

"Marcadia will remember us as their queens, Jennie" she said it herself not too long ago.

"And it was wrong for me to elicit such bold words because we will ruin Marcadia, not save it." you know Jennie's heart more than anything else, and this is not the one that you've touched, "Disgraceful, outright despicable- the scums of all royalty, just stupid little girls who wanted to be in love- that is what they will say about us."

You don't know the beginning, at what point did this conspire from, but to save this love is above the crown, "I told you, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. Jennie, you're the best—"

"I'm just a mistake, Rosie." she elicits, pained by her own conclusions, "The biggest one you've made."

"I don't regret my choices" to be with you, to love you, Jennie.

"And neither do I" she says, but to have stood by her choice to love you or to stand by the choice to leave you now, you don't know "And I will pay the cost."