"Your Lord, if your wish is to amuse me, then retrieve your acts." She interrupted me, and I knew I had done her erroneous. 
"My apologies. I did not know when to ask, speak, talk, or request for your name. My utterances before were out of nervousness, my princess. I don’t know the effects it has had, but I am glad. Glad of your presence, and my presence as stated, as long as our speeches rhyme, am happy. "
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He knew his stand, he knew his label, he knew.., he sure knew. A bastard’ To some it was just a name, an English decent name, but to many, especially those in the highest ranks of the social class, knew, they knew what kind of hefty drift being associated with such a labeled man meant to his whole, they knew. And he,… he.., was born as one, a bastard. A bastard, a bastard was what he came to know his name as,…
Lord Willock,.. a duke’s son but a King’s decent to be precise, lived a life of now, as tomorrow was nothing but a luck. The boy, knew all, he knew love, ooh how would he forget the face of the dazzling girl who made her forget all his worries, right on the ballroom dance floor. How would he forget, how would he forget, he was a bastard, if every conversation seemed to have nothing but the name on it.., However, maybe destiny was meant to be lenient or tough on him, its all his fate to face.
Dearest reader, let’s embark on the journey of Lord Willock, and see what lemons life throws at him, and his coping mechanisms, in times of tragedy, and maybe he was more fated for good fortune than just a label..? A labeled man was meant for ‘death!!!’ A word and statement well known..,

Lord have mercy.

Profound Bound

Books have always had a certain recognition of love. They just express it in different ways, in different styles, and in different manners. I have seen some liken it to the kissing of the rain with the land; I have read somewhere the liking of the stars by lonesome human eyes; I have seen others liken it to the wail of the lonesome wolf to the lone sailing moonlight up high above the horizon; how beautiful isn’t it? It is, of course. We all fantasize about such a kind of love—that which feels like the air we breathe, that which makes us kneel in adoration—but we all know it is not always as it is. It is different; love is pain, love is suffering, love is heartache, and love is just... And what is there to love if you don’t fear? If you don’t fear the minute you blink at the person next to you, the person with whom her eyes and beauty mesmerize you, without caring about anyone else who does, all you hope for is that she will be the lone who shall see you as you do to her. 


WILLOCK 43