Villainess Of Hearts

Black and White.

The world could be divided in dichotomies, one's reflection and the true self. However, who was to say that what lay in front of them was not their true self? The King and Queen were counterparts, standing side by side—each one incomplete without their other half.

Newly crowned and alone within the crowd of strangers, Rosalyn Lockhart drank to her heart's contents. She was drowning with just a few cups.

Steel her heart.

Ignore the hole within it.

She smiled and nodded, exchanged words with men and women much older than her—their "advice" and "wisdom" granted to her on how to rule a Kingdom properly. The young Queen accepted it all with a humble nod, she felt as if she was in a room full of cards. Yes they were all a pack of cards, if she could tumble them down then she could. That was the only ease that prevailed in her chest and mind.

Deeper and deeper.

The red liquid beckoned her to fulfill her duties, the people around her were nothing but a pack of cards with numbers. Seven of this portion of Hearts. Two that lived close to Four. Six paired off with Nine. Eight that cheated with One. Details and information gathered from prior to this event. Her head spun and she glanced around the throne room, searching. The Queen of Hearts hoped. But only to have her expectations crushed—but she was fine. 

Allow her to hide this with a smile of lips shaded red.

"Pardon me, Lords and Ladies of the Kingdoms—" Her Knight in White arrived. His gaze fell on her but turned to the pack of cards around them. "I believe that this party is about to end."

"But the King hasn't even graced us with his presence."

"So soon? Is it not a little bit past midnight?"

A well-natured smile formed on her Knight's lips as he shook his head, "It's nearly three, my Lord."

"Is it!" Another remarked, marvel in their tone. The Lady turned to her friend and waved a fan over her face. "Why does time feel like it moved far too quickly?"

It was Eight talking with Two. Rosalyn Lockhart fought back herself from giggling, the Two completely unaware of her friend spending her nights with One. It would be a good blackmail material in the future if one needed to use it—keep them in a leash. That was what her brother would have said, didn't he?

"Thank you for coming, I believe that His Majesty of Hearts had fallen ill." Her Knight said it without missing a beat. There was no crack in his voice, nor any disruptions in his words—they believed it. It made her realize how stupid she was—to be fooled by that charming smile on her Knight's face. His eyes told of the truth, a glint in them that she had never noticed before.

And yet she wished to believe his words.

That there was some reason for the man's absence, instead of them fleeing away like a coward. How would their Kingdom prosper if a King couldn't even attend a simple gala like this one? 

"Is that so, how terrible of that to happen!"

"Did he gain it during the Crowning Ceremony? He shouldn't have shook hands with the peasants of the Kingdom, who knows of what ill-ridden stricken bodies they have?"

"Ah, but the people loved it. Makes a good reason to adore him more."

"There is nothing wrong with standing afar and waving at them, it lets one retain a considerable distance and maintain one's regal nature."

Julius Ginellevé was at a good distance, respectful and mannered in his ways even as he stepped towards her and bowed. "Your Majesty, the party has already ended—it's only natural that you leave now?" He looked up at her and then he was the only left in the throne room.

The only one she could see.

—the wine glass was gently plucked from her fingertips, the Knight placing it down at a table. His back was turned towards her, her dutiful Knight. He was the only one who stayed. Nobody else did. A fire lit up in her soul—heat filled her cheeks. She knew she was red.

Until her Knight turned to look back at her, once again bowing his head. "Allow me to escort you to your room, Your Majesty? Have you come down with a fever yourself?"

She blinked. The Queen of Hearts purposefully ignored his comment about her face, "We've only arrived here tonight—you already know where my quarters are, Gine?"

"Of course, it is my duty to know so." A soft sigh escaped his lips, he ran his hands through his hair. "How many glasses have you drunk, Your Majesty? You should have sipped more slowly if you couldn't refuse them. They should know that you're barely at a formal age to drink but they persuaded you to do this, didn't they?"

"Social drinking is what people do, Gine." She eyed him with her best wroth expression. She wanted his hand to pat her head like he did before. His touch, she wanted it. "You must not know of it, but it is important that I drink—and these taste like cherries, they're delicious!"

"...You're such a glutton sometimes."

"What did you say?"

The Knight extended a hand towards her, "If it's fine, please hold my hand, Your Majesty. I am afraid that you'll topple over if you were to walk all by yourself."

Rosalyn Lockhart ventured towards him and grabbed for his arm. Hugging it close to her chest, she looked up at his face and grinned. "What nonsense do you speak of? Let's go." She stepped forward only to be held back by the man's sheer weight.

"This is too close, Your Majesty." He gave her a stern look—and yet his face shone like a tomato. A tomato with purple specks for eyes.

She tilted her head at him, "Is it? We've done this when we were younger, you're quite silly."

Julius Ginellevé escaped her grip and rubbed his face, "It's different now, Your Majesty."

"How come?"

"I'll answer it in the morning when you've woken up, Your Majesty. For now—it's time for you to rest."

She glared at him, "Answer me now."

—Within a moment's notice, the woman found herself in the arms of her Knight. The man shook his head at her, muttering something underneath his breath. Carried off like a princess by her prince, the Knight was quick to get her out of the throne room and towards their destination, doing it nothing with soldierly cadence, trained to the core—she looked up to his face, the shadows hid his face. She rested her head against his chest and grumbled. "Fine."

. . .

The Knight and the Queen of Hearts were together in her office, the man had the high ground atop her office desk and looked at her, a look in his eyes. "Yes. I do not regret what I do, but what about you, Your Majesty? Do you… regret this?"

The Queen of Hearts averted her gaze and refused to meet his eyes. Too many memories were caught in between them. And yet it hadn't changed her own demise in the man's hands before, did it? It was a stark reminder. 

A cruel one.

Did Rosalyn Lockhart even have time for something like this?

Shouldn't she be more concerned with her own survival first… that had always been the plan, wasn't it? Her own demise before, in hindsight, was due to her own arrogance or perhaps her inability to look beyond other than her own satisfaction?

His touch, his lips and his love for her—it tasted sweet but it was bitter to swallow. He had been there when she needed someone desperately, memories of a younger self that longed for love. Perhaps he had also clung to her at that time, a boy taken into the Lockhart House and possibly separated from his family. Desires were inherent. But were her feelings for him simply acquired due to that situation? 

Did that matter?

But even if it did not, their affections for one another could be potentially destructive? Was she willing to sacrifice her position for this man…? The throne was all she had. She had given up far too many things to actually reach this position in her life and to give it all up and possibly flee from the land to be with him? An answer to whether she regretted this situation with him.

It only came across her mind now.

The man never asked for it. He knew how important this was to her—he personally knew what she had given up. The reason for her strain in even making a letter to her brother. She gave up too many things for the throne, it had cost her. Only for it to be stolen away by Alice with what seemed to be a snap of her fingertips?

Well, a snap was too quick—but it had felt like that to her!

The memories that remained with her, it spoke of such startling speed that could upturn thrones and kingdoms. And the woman had to face that in the future, or run away like a coward—but she could possibly be with her Knight? Would that be enough?

Rosalyn Lockhart could imagine that.

She'd end up as the laughing stock of the Kingdom. When Alice arrived, she could swoop in and snatch up the throne without difficulty if she did that. A pawn could be a queen. That was a well-proven case and Rosalyn could, would and should not give this up. 

"Rosalyn?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, resolution finding itself at last. "I cannot give up anything for you—I am too selfish and you are aware of that. Is it not better to find someone else?" He needed to take this opportunity while he could—she was too greedy to say no herself.. But if he wanted to leave, then he must.