Villainess Of Hearts

The young Queen of Hearts stared at the clock in her room—this was her chambers now. The grandfather clock continued with its ticking and it made her unable to sleep. And yet, she was used to sleeping alone, even more so that the hours of partying had already come and gone. It was finally time for her to rest, but she found herself awake and focusing on what had gone wrong.

Her heart beat sounded and drummed in her ears.

The King of Hearts didn't come at all.

It was their first event together as King and Queen but he escaped from it. Even when he said that he would return. Had he even said that? She thought that he did, somewhere in between him telling her to leave him alone. Was he truly sick as her Knight had claimed in the throne room? Her gaze focused on the ceiling as her head whirled. The alcohol still filled her system. She couldn't sleep. What if the young man needed some help?

She rose to her feet.

Even if the two of them were only partners by chance—perhaps he would see her as something more. Rosalyn Lockhart remembered the golden haired prince, no, King. During their crowning, he had a bright smile on his face and a light in those blue eyes of his. Someone like him was truly meant to stay above and capture the hearts of the people. Even if the man was a little stupid.

The Queen of Hearts walked to her door, maintaining her footing as she grasped the doorknob. She then peeked out the door. She was met with an empty hallway. Save for the lights of the chandelier above her head and the painting that hung on the wall—there was nothing else. Nobody else and not a soul.

Did the soldiers not rotate their patrols here?

That didn't matter to her right now—her mind focused on one thing alone. It might have been three or even four in the morning, but she was going to see the King of Hearts. It was her duty as a Queen to ensure that her partner was alright. "Yes…" A smile crossed on her lips. That was what she was supposed to do. Her parents told her so, 'Support him when he becomes King'. She was only doing what she was asked.

Rosalyn stepped out of her room and looked left and right.

But where was his chambers?

She needed to use her head. Yes, use her head more than her heart. The information that had been taught to her when she was younger. The place of the King of Hearts—it would be at the other end of the Castle.

It was too far.

She stumbled on regardless.

Teetering and tottering, she grasped the wall as she did, clutching the surface with a hand—trying to maintain her steady footing.

"Hah, why is it so far from my room?" She complained to herself and looked ahead. "How would we sleep together?" Why was the world spinning? It was a silly nuisance. But even so, she was nearly there. "Just a little more steps then I'll see you," A small smile crept up on her lips, "If you neglected your duties without being sick, I'll hit you. I hate lies." She could see the heart design outside of the double doors, it matched her own room.

It was a simple one, still made elaborate, a golden heart sigil.

Yes, that was the King of Hearts room.

She reached out to the door and pushed forward—but it didn't budge.

The drunkenness and stupor faded slightly as she blinked. She tried to open the door but found it unmoving, wait, it wobbled slightly if she put in more effort into shoving it open. Of course, someone like them would have locked the door. But he didn't. It was a different thing entirely. Something was in her way and preventing passage—it was a small wooden drawer. Or furniture, she couldn't exactly tell.

Why did he push something like this instead of locking the door?

The sound of a piece of furniture being pushed aside sounded and soon enough, she could open the door. But she wasn't stupid enough to enter his chambers, no self-respecting woman would dare sneak into a man's chambers. But the two of them were wedded—no, that excuse did not work for her. Instead, it was time to do something else, she peeked into his room.

Her breath hitched.

The sight rendered her speechless. If she had thought putting a cabinet in one's front door was odd, there was more mess than what she could have expected. Numerous shards and broken pieces lay on the floor. Vases of antique importance rendered useless along with stone sculptures, and other items. She blinked once more, brows furrowing together.

What had happened? Where was he?

Her heart jumped out of her chest. What if this was an attempt on his life—no, it was too early for them to move. There wasn't anything at all now. Everything had been abolished a year ago, there possibly couldn't be any deserters anymore. Rosalyn Lockhart stepped into the room in search of the young man.

The thick drapes were also drawn to a close, she couldn't see anything at all except for a single flicker of a candlestick on a table. Yes, the candle's warm orange glow basked the room in some light. Beside it, a parchment on the table with ink strewn atop it along with a quill haphazardly thrown aside.

She raised a brow.

All of the stupor in her veins ceasing to flow, uncertainty filled it instead. A shiver ran up her spine. It was a little too early for them to be working on documents already, the two of them have simply arrived here. So where was he—and there he was, in the corner of his room. Just near the table, she hadn't seen him the first time.

Relief flooded her veins, a little too soon.

Because something was very wrong. Her lips tugged down. It was already late and he had spent the entire night and early morning there? The man was curled up and balled in the corner of his room, and as she drew closer, she heard something—he was saying something to himself. Muttering to himself underneath his breath.

Rosalyn couldn't take another step further, everything so far told her of an insane man. What if he lashed back at her? She stepped back and heard a creak. She cursed. Now wasn't the time for the floor to fail her, but he didn't budge. Her brows furrowed over, she clasped her hands together. "Do not tell me that the moment we parted, you've been simply there, Your Majesty."

He froze and stopped muttering.

She sighed inwardly, so the man could still hear and listen to reason? What nonsense had he been doing here, then? The Queen of Hearts made a move towards him, the earlier memory in the throne room rousing her to action. It had been an annoying time, surrounded by plenty and she had felt like a mouse in a den of lions.

He was supposed to be there.

And yet here he was, acting like a baby.

Her family would have never accepted such a treatment like this. It was almost shameful to see him like that. Did he have no sense of pride or discomfort? "Did you know what they said in the throne room, Your Majesty? They were looking for you, and here you are in your chambers hidden from the rest of the world. Do you have any intention to actually be a proper King, Your Majesty?"

No answer.

Or was that a mumble?

She couldn't hear him at all, couldn't understand him. She took another step forward and clicked her tongue, "A King must be able to speak to his people and be able to rouse them to action." No movement still? Did he wish to be kicked? She could give him that, someone pretentious as him deserved it. Rosalyn fumed and took another step forward, eyeing the figure near the wall. "Can you even do that when you can't speak to me or get up on your own?"

Nothing?

This man was unbelievable! Rosalyn Lockhart squared her shoulders as determination filled her veins. Her conversation with her Knight was right, if this was the King that was to be assigned to the throne, their Kingdom would go down in flames. Was all of her hard work going to be fruitless because of him?

Look at him now, she needed to straighten him up. "Your Majesty—"

"Stop—" He jerked back towards her, his eyes narrowed at her. Blue eyes that were as cold as ice. "Can you shut up?" His voice tinged with heaviness and bitterness. He began rising to his feet, shaking his head. "I don't need you—" His shoulder and back knocked over the edge of the table, tipping it over—a crash echoed within the room.

Instead of dying out with the sudden change from inertia to momentum, the candle instead licked up the parchment to dust and started a larger flame. It lit up the room in red flames—a blaze erupted. Swirling and eating up the table far faster than it should have done at all. An unnatural red fire borne out of fear, anger and starvation.

An inferno.

Magic? Her eyes widened as words failed to come to her lips. Both the flame and his words rendered her speechless. Memories loomed over her, conversations in the past. Emotions often sparked things to creation. This was his doing wasn't it? She tried to step back once, but this was stupidly where strength forsaken her legs. Her heel stepped back on the edge of her gown, The young woman felt herself stumble—and the fire grew.

An all-consuming fiery blaze broke in between them.