"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

The journey was lengthy. I was tired and slept almost the entire day until one of the guards came to call me into the room I was given. 'His Majesty seeks a word,' he said, prompting me to dress up quickly and head there. 


His Majesty was seated in his larger throne, always looking regal. 'You requested a word,' I stated. I sometimes didn't know how to speak to people of higher ranks. Even with Amir’s father, I preferred to nod in approval. I was scared that they would form an opinion of me, but fear is the worst friend one would ever embrace. As one gets older, fear will surely one day stab you in the back. That’s how it is; one has to muster up all the courage, all of it. 


Anyway, I was waiting for the King’s approval. He was reading a certain book; it seems he does not really like being intruded upon when reading. And here I was, intruding on him. 'I'm sorry, apologies, Your Highness,' I found myself stating to myself. 


WILLOCK 64