A game of persistence

A Game of Persistence

Amelia stood before the grand double doors of the crown prince's chamber, her fingers trailing lazily along the polished wood. A playful smirk tugged at her lips as she pushed them open without hesitation, stepping into the warm, dimly lit chamber. The quiet click of the door shutting behind her sealed her entrance, but she knew she had already been noticed.

Inside, the flickering glow of candlelight cast long shadows across the towering bookshelves and rich velvet-draped furniture. The scent of aged parchment, ink, and faint traces of cedar filled the air. Amidst this organized chaos sat Ceaser Romano, crown prince of the kingdom, completely absorbed in the documents spread before him on his desk. His sharp, chiseled features were bathed in golden light, his tousled blonde hair catching the flickering candlelight in an almost ethereal way.

The picture of discipline. Of quiet power.

And Amelia loved disrupting such things.

Taking a few confident steps forward, she observed him carefully, waiting for any sign that he had acknowledged her presence. He had, of course. She noticed the slightest pause in the movement of his hands before he resumed his writing.

Finally, without looking up, he addressed her.

"What are you doing here?"

His tone was calm, distant-coolly detached, the way one might speak to an uninvited guest.

Amelia's smirk widened. She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly as she feigned innocence.

"Hi~" she greeted, her voice dripping with mischief.

Ceaser lifted his gaze at last, arching a single, unimpressed eyebrow as he took her in. She had abandoned her usual elaborate gowns in favor of something more comfortable, though no less elegant-clothing that allowed her to move freely. His gaze flickered with something unreadable before shifting back to his papers.

"Were you working?" she asked, her curious eyes scanning the clutter of scrolls and books strewn across his desk.

"Yeah."

"Ooh...," she hummed in response, dramatically flopping onto the plush bed across from him. She propped her chin on her hand, openly watching him.

Ceaser, as expected, ignored her. His pen scratched against the parchment, his expression unreadable.

The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, this time with a sigh, his patience already beginning to fray.

Amelia grinned. "You were the one who promised to take me hunting, remember?"

Ceaser scoffed. "I don't remember promising anything."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Don't lie." Amelia pouted, tilting her head like a spoiled cat.

Ceaser exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. "I told you I'd think about it."

Amelia's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Then... have you thought about it yet?"

A pause.

Ceaser ran a hand through his hair. "If I say I'll bring you with me, will you stop bothering me?"

"Yes, I will," Amelia answered immediately, leaning forward in anticipation.

Ceaser studied her for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not she was bluffing. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

"Fine."

Amelia gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. "Fine?"

"Fine."

"Hehe~"

Ceaser shook his head, turning back to his work as though the conversation had never happened.

However, just as he dipped his pen into the ink, Amelia casually stretched out on his bed.

His eye twitched.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

Amelia yawned. "I thought your work would take some time. I'm kinda tired, so...." She trailed off, snuggling into the silken sheets.

Ceaser's expression darkened. "Go and sleep in your room if you're tired." His voice was icy.

Amelia peeked at him through her lashes, her lips curving into a lazy smile. "Come on, we'll get married soon anyway."

And with that, she flopped back onto the bed, leaving Ceaser speechless.

His jaw clenched as he gripped his pen tighter. This woman was impossible.

---

Time passed in heavy silence, the only sound in the room the occasional rustling of parchment and the steady rhythm of Ceaser's breathing.

Then-

"Shall we go now, my prince?"

The sudden voice broke Ceaser's focus.

Logan Milburn, Ceaser's ever-dutiful aide, entered the chamber with his usual crisp demeanor. He stepped inside, pausing abruptly as his sharp eyes landed on Amelia-fast asleep in Ceaser's bed.

His expression remained carefully neutral, but the slight twitch of his brow betrayed his thoughts.

"What is she doing here?" Logan asked, voice flat. His gaze shifted to Ceaser. "Is she also coming with us?"

Ceaser leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "She wouldn't stop pestering me otherwise."

Logan exhaled, crossing his arms. "You could have told me if this brat was giving you a hard time."

"It's fine," Ceaser replied, his voice tired. "She told me she'd stop bothering me once I agreed to take her with us."

Logan stared at Amelia, his expression unreadable.

A long silence stretched between them before Logan spoke again.

"But why does she have to sleep here?"

Ceaser sighed, glancing at Amelia's peaceful expression. "I don't know. Maybe she's tired?"

Logan's brow furrowed. "Tired of doing what?"

Ceaser didn't respond immediately, but Logan didn't let it go. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't tell me you guys are really like that."

Ceaser's head snapped toward him, irritation flashing in his eyes.

Logan's lips quirked slightly, as if amused by his reaction.

The crown prince simply exhaled, shaking his head. He didn't owe Logan an explanation, and Amelia... well, she would be waking up very soon.

And when she did, Ceaser knew she would have plenty more to say.

---