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Princess Pansy's Peckish Problems	By : Mousse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Pansy Views: 21557 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and not a work of profit. Some lines are taken off from and some scenes resemble that of Reign (tv show) but, I do not own Harry Potter or Reign. History has no bearing in this narrative.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
She stared at her mother, Imogen Parkinson, as she stood with her back facing her while the woman gazed, expressionless, at the unlit fireplace. Her eyes flicked at the window, drapes fluttering like butterfly wings as a soft breeze blew through the air bringing in the smell of earth and fresh water. The peaceful atmosphere threatened to spell her into slumber but, the light rustling of fabric alerted her senses, jolting her back into reality. Returning her gaze back to the older woman, Pansy felt like she was brought back in time as her mother loomed above her with her unforgiving eyes and cold words.
“What excuse can you give me?” The elder woman asked with a clipped tone.
               Try as she might not to wince, old habits die hard. During her brief childhood in Scotland, for as long as she can remember, there was never a time wherein she would not flinch whenever her mother spoke. She found her voice alone to be intimidating and it becomes even more so if one is to stand in her presence. The current Queen of Scotland is more petrifying if thwart or mad and in this particular scenario, she had done both which resulted to her being at the end of her mother’s cool ire.
“Have you lost your ability to speak, Pansy? Or is it that you would rather be in the company of that…Italian rather than your own mother?” Imogen questioned, her Obsidian eyes wide with untainted dissatisfaction towards her.
“Of course not, Mother. I was simply thinking of my answer.” She soothed, raising a hand to hold the other woman’s hand. Her mother swatted her hand away with a slap and Pansy lowered her hand as she lowered her pained eyes.
“Thinking? If you were, indeed, thinking, this situation would have not made itself known. The entire Court was left in chaos! What you did earlier inside the throne room was a declaration of war with England. Your departure was an act of disobedience to France. Your relationship with that Italian bastard is a disgrace to the Scottish throne, not to mention an offense to your pure-blooded fanatical Swedish King-Grandfather. These trespasses of yours will not go unpunished. Whispers spread like wildfire and soon enough, war will come knocking on our doors because you cannot control your behaviour and emotions!” The woman reprimanded as she paced in front of her.
“Is the throne of Scotland the only thing that matters to you? Is being France’s lapdog giving you much needed pride? Is England that terrifying for you that you immediately sold your own daughter for your safety in expense for my own happiness?” She quizzed, her voice shaking as her tightly-lidded emotions threaten to spill to the surface.
“We, your father and I, did things the way we did because we have a duty to Scotland. We can’t afford to be selfish and if the price for peace is you, we would give you away with no questions asked.” Her mother answered, her back facing her once again.
“Just what am I to you, Mother?” She asked, a hot lump forming at her throat as her dry eyes misted with salty tears.
“You are the Princess, the next Queen of Scotland.” The elder woman replied, turning on her heel to face Pansy.
“Am I not your daughter first before being the Scottish Princess?” She probed quietly as a single tear dropped down from her lashes.
“Your duty is to your country, Pansy. It is not I or your father who you should please.”
               Her heart died a little more at her mother’s words. She expected backlash from her due to her actions. She even anticipated that the woman would slap her as she would do during her childhood before she was taken by Queen Narcissa to live in France but, she never expected her mother to break her spirit. She knew she should have expected nothing less from her but, she hoped that maybe her mother would see her as her daughter above anything else and that wish only brought her more heartbreak.
“So says the Queen.” She retorted with blank eyes and detached voice.
“You must understand, child. You are a Princess. You are lucky-”
“Lucky?! There is nothing lucky about being a royal, Mother! All that I have become is a chess piece conveniently moved with a wave of a hand! I have become a stranger to both of my parents and the few friends that I have treat me as if I’m a fragile creature!” She bellowed, tears streaming down her cheeks as her frustration and other negative emotions exploded.
“You cannot act like this! This is your fate! This is our fate! Even if we want to change it, there is no way that we can run away. As royals, we must make sacrifices and choose between what is right and what is easy.” Imogen lectured as she held Pansy by the shoulder.
               All of a sudden, she saw her mother for who she truly was, a woman confined within the drafty walls of the Scottish palace, surrounded by potential enemies with no friend in sight. She saw the weariness in the elder woman’s eyes and noticed how much older she seemed compared to yesterday. She bore half of her father’s burdens, maybe more than he has upon him as she continued to please not only her Scottish people but also, her previous kingdom, Sweden.
“Did it get easier?” She queried.
“No, it did not.” The Queen replied, her eyes softening at her daughter before sighing and breaking away from her.
               Imogen padded to the window and Pansy stared at her mother’s profile, drinking in her natural beauty without the pretence of a strong and formidable Queen. She was not as elegant as Narcissa Malfoy nor is she as beautiful as the French Queen but, she was in every way a royalty. Even now, as tired as she may seem, she exudes the aura of a true monarch and though, intimidated by her, Pansy can’t help but feel attracted with her mysterious air. She found herself genuinely curious as to how her mother became the woman she is.
“I know what you are thinking. You must be interested as to how I became like…this.” Her mother started, eyes boring onto her. The young woman merely nodded as she made way to join Imogen by the window.
               Outside, servants went in and out, carrying on with their duties with smiles carved on their faces. Some stopped for a quick chat while others travelled in pairs or in groups of threes as they enjoyed the company of one another before separating to return to their daily chores. She envied the ease of their lives and she wondered if she were to become an ordinary woman, would she have the freedom that they seem to adore?
“I envy them.” Imogen stated, her gaze focused on a pair of maids, giggling as they walked past a soldier stationed outdoors.
“Who?” She probed, glancing at her mother sideways.
“Ordinary people.”
               Blinking twice, Pansy was sure that it was her mother standing beside but, the mother she knew would never admit feeling jealous over the “common folk” – as she put it. Noticing her reaction, Imogen chuckled at her and she felt even more flabbergasted at the sight of her mother openly laughing.
“Shocking, isn’t it? Well, I guess it would be for you since, all you knew of me is the harsh and cruel woman who gave you away but, I used to be just like you – rash, unpredictable, untamed. Your Grandfather would always lecture me about propriety and what is due of a woman of my position but, even his words were not enough to hold me down. I wanted adventures. I wanted life. I wanted to breathe.” The woman explained, turning her head to stare at her daughter.
“What changed?” Pansy murmured after a beat of silence and Imogen smiled at her sadly before tearing her gaze away to stare outside once again.
“I fell in love.” She admitted, a wistful but, melancholic expression flashed in her Obsidian orbs as if she was reliving every moment of the past.
“Who was he?” She quizzed after a moment’s silence.
“He was the son of the Head Groom, a-”
“- servant? You fell in love with a commoner and a retainer?” Pansy exclaimed, a horrified expression splayed on her face.
               Turning to face her, Imogen eyed her with great despondency and embarrassment.
“He was more than just a servant.” Her mother explained in a soft voice.
“How so?”
“He opened my eyes to the world. He made me realize things I never would under the guidance of my Governess and the protection of your Grandfather. He made me live as a woman, not as a Swedish Princess.”
               Understanding dawned upon her as she recognized her mother’s emotions. It was the exact feeling she felt whenever she was with Blaise. He made her experience things she had never known. He made her discover mysteries and pleasures she never thought possible. With him by her side, she felt as if she were just an ordinary woman in the cusps of love which she never thought would be possible after her heartbreak. He healed her and from the looks of it, her mother’s past love healed her too.
               Grasping her mother’s hand in hers, she gave the startled woman a watery smile, a sign of her empathetic and undiscriminating perspective. In gratitude, Imogen squeezed her hand and reciprocated with a wan smile of her own.
“What ever happened to him?” She queried after their slight yet, heartfelt display of affection.
“You see, our relationship was blasphemous in every way.” Her mother started with a quiver, eyes firm at the horizon and she stepped closer to the woman as an indication of support to which Imogen gratefully appropriated. She continued, “It was difficult to pretend, to hide when all we wanted was to be with one another.”
               A steady stream of tears fell from her mother’s Obsidian eyes. The sight of the strong, confident Queen crying as the steel walls of her heart crumbled down was agonizing. She couldn’t help but, weep together with the older woman as she had no other idea on how to show her compassion while she listened to Imogen’s tragic tale.
“That desire grew stronger, until we couldn’t bear it any longer and I took the courage to confess to my Father. He didn’t take it well. My mother…Well, she had an inkling I was in love with somebody but, never had she guessed it would be a stable boy. I thought she might understand but…she was just like Father.” The Scottish Queen sniffed, dropping her gaze to stare at their joined hands.
“They say that married couples unconsciously affect one another. I wouldn’t be surprised that Grandfather and Grandmother have the same mind.” Pansy interjected as she tried to lighten the sombre atmosphere.
“Be thankful that you are miles away from them or you would have had the misfortune of being moulded into their likeness.” Imogen chuckled.
“I’m not as impressionable as you think I am, Mother.” She stated, mockingly glaring at the Queen.
“Of course, you are not, child. I can see that as plain as day. I may have never told you anything a mother should have but, right now, I advise you…No, I beseech you, don’t allow your heart to rule over you. Don’t make the same mistake I did. If you truly love him, let him go.” The older woman counselled as she enveloped her daughter’s hands in a tight grip with a pleading expression etched on her face.
“What are you saying?” Pansy asked, her anxious eyes darting around the circumference of her mother’s face.
“I was as headstrong as you are to the point I became foolish and reckless. I publicized my relationship with him, much to my parents’ dismay and mortification. One day, a Scottish envoy arrived, bringing news. I was with him that day and we were called. Father chose to tell me that day that I was to be engaged to the Scottish Prince after several months of consideration. I was outraged and informed him that I will not promise myself to a man I have never met when I am in a relationship with a man I love. He was furious by the declaration and as a form of punishment; he locked me in the tower, distinctly commanding the guards to never let anyone inside except for his chosen servants. I tried to escape as I was worried about him. You see, as I was being dragged away to be locked up inside the tower, he was being held at sword point. I was scared that Father might have hurt him and…I was right.” Imogen enlightened, her voice dropping into barely a whisper before she could even finish but, Pansy heard her clear enough to hear the horror she had experienced.
               She didn’t force her mother to speak. She waited, knowing that it was difficult to admit the truth and to once again feel the pain. A long time may have passed but, some pains don’t easily come away. Wounds of love may be one of the hardest to ease and if true love, genuine love existed between her mother and her past love, it may never subside.
“He died. He was executed for sorcery and Paganism, a crime he was innocent of.” The Queen spat bitterly after a short silence.
               Pansy gasped sharply as her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widen in disbelief but, her mother barely noticed her. She was looking outside the window, beyond the line of trees, past the vast sea, and over the mountains with fire in her eyes as her resentment transported her miles away from the grandeur of the French Court to the oppressive and heartless walls of Gripsholm Castle. Even at a short distance, she could see her mother’s body quaking with simmering hatred, regret, and hopelessness at the cruel fate of her dead lover. She could only imagine how painful it was for the older woman to have the strength to save her loved one only to come too late.
“They framed him, Father and his advisors. Mother was in it, too. People…Royals all over the continent were mocking them for having a daughter…whoring herself to a servant. They wanted to banish all of the humiliation I brought them so, they made up a lie. They announced to the entire kingdom that he and his family were Devil worshippers and they were spawns of demons. They planted false evidences on them and to much of their sorrow and dismay, the people believed the monarchy. They were executed the day of my birthday. Father came to the tower and gave me his head as a gift. After his death, I was immediately wedded to your Father and I was on my way to Scotland. I closed off everyone around me, wrapping myself around my loathing, promising myself that I will avenge his death. I became hard. Ice-cold. A monster, just like my Father.”
               Lulled into a heavy hush, she gazed at the blurring profile of her mother as her pooling tears spilled down her eyes at the misfortune of the Scottish Queen’s love. No words could ever comfort or warm Imogen’s battered heart as her own flesh and blood betrayed her. She finally understood the aloofness that surrounded her mother.
“You are not a monster, Mother.” She amended, thickly.
“I am a monster, Pansy. You said it yourself. You are my daughter but, you are a stranger to both of your parents. It is a mother’s job to care for her own daughter, to teach her, to counsel her yet, here you are, at French Court, encircled by people neither your friends nor enemy, when your home, your true home is in Scotland with us. Isn’t it horrible, unkind even, for a mother to give away her own daughter to another woman who may or may not care for her? Isn’t what I did monstrous?” Imogen asked, her dark brows furrowed in the middle as she stared at Pansy with glassy eyes.
“You were scared. It’s a feeling that is easily mistaken for something else but, as I listened to you, I knew differently. For the longest time, I have mistaken your indifference as hatred but, as I gaze into your eyes, I see that there is and never had been any animosity in you for me.” She replied, her lower lip shaking as the waterworks worked double time.
“Oh, my daughter.” The Queen cried as she surged forward and engulfed the young Princess in a long, overdue embrace between mother and child.
               Both wept in each other’s arms, wearing their hearts on their sleeves as they consoled and forgave each other for the first time. It felt like hours for them but, only minutes passed by when they finally broke away from each other with faces blotchy and snivelling noses.
“It might be a little too late to act as your mother but, I want you to listen. Pansy, I know that our situation is different but, I want you to understand the gravity of your actions. Word will reach England, I am sure of it. No matter how much Lucius covers up your relationship with Blaise and your declaration, the English has eyes and ears everywhere. Don’t let yourself be the cause of heartbreak for many others. I have experienced that and I would never want you to share the same fate as I do. Once more, I ask of you, let him go. He may hate you for it but, that is a far better fate rather than seeing him cold and lifeless.” Imogen instructed, her hands cupping both of her daughter’s cheek as her thumbs brushed away the tears streaking her smooth skin. Pansy stared at her for a moment before nodding her head as the last of her tears fell down her face.
“I…I’ll think about it.”
“Good girl.” The older woman exclaimed, brushing a kiss on her forehead and the young Princess closed her eyes, allowing the faint Gardenia scent of her mother waft to her nose, momentarily washing away her hesitations and trepidations.
“I must retire to my chambers. I am leaving for Scotland tomorrow. I have to check my belongings as well as give out orders for tomorrow. I can’t leave your Father alone much longer. He needs…assistance.” The Queen stated as she pulled away, holding her daughter within arms’ length.
“Of course, Mother. I will see you later this afternoon.” Pansy responded with a small smile.
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.” Imogen announced before giving her one last kiss on the cheek.
               She watched as the Scottish Queen swept out of her room, leaving her by herself. As soon as her mother’s footsteps died down, her knees gave out and wept, her sobs loud on her ears. So many thoughts clouded inside her head, each one battling the other in order to reign supreme but, nothing came to the top as her feelings were swallowing her into a pit of chaos. She wanted to run to her Italian Prince, have him comfort her but, she knew that once she fell into his arms, she would never want to leave him so, she locked herself inside her chambers, allowing no one to disturb her other than Millicent to attend to her needs.
               The next three days passed the same. The whole palace was abuzz with whispers about her behaviour and none of it was pleasing to hear. Rumours are a nasty piece of work but also, tedious and annoying. She didn’t have any time to think about baseless stories when she has more pressing matters to think of. Her mother’s words rang deep in her mind and each day that passed, it was becoming clearer and clearer in her head. She knew that she have to make up her mind and at first, she thought she did but, with Queen Imogen’s advice as well as the haunting words of King Lucius, she knew that she should let go of her any prejudices and think as a royal.
               As if conjured by her thoughts, her mother’s parting message the day she left, surfaced in her mind.
“…We are not women to the eyes of the public or to the eyes of other royals. We are monarchy. We are Scotland, you, as the Princess and I, as the Queen. We are leaders of our country’s people. Forsaking our people is the same as forsaking yourself.”
               Eyes on the door, she stood up and strode to the door, opening the wooden portal with a flourish which startled the soldiers stationed outside her room and the halls. Walking out, she made way to her destination, ignoring the curious stares and noise that came from her appearance. She continued her trek down the hall until she reached the staircase and swiftly descended the steps. As soon as her feet landed on the even ground, she heard another set of footfalls from her left and she swivelled her head only to come to stare at the man she needed to converse with.
“Blaise.” She called.
               With her voice carrying out of the hall, the Italian Prince stopped mid-stride and turned to look at her with wide, Golden-Brown eyes. His initial shock died down and soon, a smile bloomed on his lips as he crossed the gap between them in just three steps. He took her cheek in his strong palm and peppered her face with feather-light kisses, making her tummy flutter and her resolve slowly crumble. Before she could succumb to him, she pushed herself away, surprising her lover at her action.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, peering at her with shining eyes.
               The courage that she managed to gather was slowly dwindling as she stared at his bright, expectant eyes and Pansy felt hatred for herself for the thing she is about to do. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves, calmed her drumming heart, and focused her attention at the man in front of her.
“I have something to say.” She began, thankful that her voice was even although a pitch higher.
“Of course, Principessa, I will indulge you with anything you wish to speak to me about.” He responded, suave and playful as he took her hand and gave her a kiss.
“Let us go to your chambers. I do not want anyone overhearing our conversation.”
               In a blink of an eye, Pansy was leading the way to his room with a considerable distance from the Italian Prince. This particular behaviour was not lost to Blaise as he effortlessly caught up with her but, whenever he tried to go near her or hold her hand, she would steer away like a frightened puppy. He didn’t like her sudden change of attitude and it gnawed at him. After their brief encounter at the palace grounds three days ago, he had not seen her. He tried to have an audience with her but, to his consternation, he was sent away. He waited, though. He knew that she was in an extremely difficult situation, not that he isn’t but, she was in a far worse state than he was.
               But, in the three days that he didn’t see her, she seemed to have worsened with dark bags shadowing under her red, puffy, lifeless eyes and her smooth skin appeared to have dulled and sagged slightly due to the pressure and stress resting on her shoulders. She even looked as if she lost weight. She seemed to drift in the air like paper, fluttering and faltering. She came across to him as weary and dejected. The longer he gazed at her seemingly frail profile, the more he wanted to take her away from this wretched palace and to the warmth of his beloved country, Italy.
               He knew that whisking her away would cause trouble for everyone around them but, they deserved their own happiness, too. They’ve been robbed of their freedom and he wanted to give Pansy the chance to live as an ordinary person void of responsibilities. He didn’t have a solid plan and they would probably live on the run but, they would be together. It was more than what he could ever hope for. All this time, he never felt what love felt like.
He hopped from one woman to another, hoping that he would finally find the love that he was looking for but, nothing stirred his barren heart until, he saw her. He felt a strong pull at the sight of her soft curves and dark eyes. He wasn’t lying when he said she was beautiful. She was the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes on and he can’t help but, feel attracted with her. He never once thought that she would humour his forthright flirting but, she did and when threw her caution out of the window, she was every bit passionate and sensual as her appearance.
During times of silence, he would wonder why she was discarded to the side like old news by the French seeing as she was an enjoyable and a comfortable partner. Her country may be small, lacking significant weaponry and abled bodies but, she has ambitions. He heard of her plans and dreams for Scotland, even for France and it impressed him that for a sixteen-year old teenage girl, she has bold and grand desires that would revolutionize her country, no, the world as they know it. She has the potential of being a great Queen but, the French dismissed her quickly without a second glance. It may have given her pain she may never recover from but, it gave him a reason to possess her all the more.
As his Father once told him, “One man’s loss is another man’s gain”. It can be said true to this situation. France just lost a valuable asset and Italy would acquire their best weapon yet. All he needed to do was convince her to run away with him to Italy and he would rule with her by his side, conquering every enemy with her brilliance and before long, they would rule over the world. He was brought out of his musings when he heard a door opening and he realized that they have arrived back at his room as Pansy went inside, padding towards the brightly-lit window without as much as a glance at him.
He closed the door behind him silently and he moved to stand behind her, enveloping his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He dipped his head at the crook of her neck and trailed kisses at her skin starting from the junction between her shoulder and collar to the base of her jaw. He heard her sigh, a breathy moan that made his blood boil and his lust flair. Growling, he spun her around and kissed her rousingly. He walked them on the wall, cradling her head against his hand to avoid her from getting hurt. His lips darted out, tracing the outline of her rosy lips before delving inside her moist cavern.
He felt his need for her flaring as her tongue danced with him in a sensuous tangle and he thrust his hip against her, rubbing his growing erection on her clothed nether lips. His hands crept up to the laces of her dress and he began to slowly untie them, the tips of his fingers skimming the exposed flesh of his lover. He felt her shiver against him and he chuckled at her reaction.
“…op…” She murmured against his lips.
               Thinking that she was urging him faster, he made fast work on her dress and completely mistaking her squirming as anticipation. What brought him back to reality was her forceful push, sending him stumbling backwards and ending their kiss. He looked at her with wild eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Stop. Please, stop.” She said, her voice quivering as she looked at him with watery eyes.
“What? Pansy, what’s the matter? You have been acting odd since we’ve met.” He stated, straightening himself before approaching her.
“Don’t…Don’t come near me. Please, don’t.” The girl whispered pleadingly as she dropped her gaze and tears streaked down her cheeks.
“What are you talking about? You’re crying! How can you expect me to just watch you?” He asked, incredulously.
“I…I can’t…We can’t…”
               Blood drained from his body and his tracks stopped as he gaped at the girl after hearing what she said. He watched her fidget under his gaze, her Obsidian eyes darting around the room to avoid his gaze but, he would not have it. In two strides, he crossed the distance separating them and he lifted her face, forcing her to look at him. She continued to fight him, closing her eyes and looking down but, he held her still. Soon enough, her hesitant gaze fell back to him and the glassy surface misted over as more tears spilled her cheeks.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” He quizzed, his voice low and ending with a slight snarl. Pansy flinched but, he could care less about his tone at the moment. He wanted her to know that he was mad and seeing her wince at his words, he knew she realized his feelings.
“Yes.” She answered truthfully with a small voice.
“Why?”
“Because I am a Princess.” She replied, her gaze strong.
               Relinquishing his hold on her, he backed away as his feelings went into chaos. He raked a hand over his head, feeling frustration and disbelief rushing fast into his system. Repeating her answer inside his head, he chuckled silently at first and as the seconds ticked by, he was laughing with abandon. After his high subsided, he turned sharply to her.
“A Princess? A Princess?! Is that more important for you? Is that title going to give you a chance to be with someone who will actually care for you?” He exploded, his Golden eyes glowering at her.
“No. I’m never going to have any chance to find someone who will truly care for me because I don’t have that luxury and I don’t have that kind of life.”
“Then, why? Why are you saying that we can’t proceed with this?! You can have that life! I love you! I care for you! What more do you want?”
               Her breath hitched at his admission. Her heart momentarily stopped as the words echoed loudly in her ears, in her mind, in her heart, and all around her. For years, she dreamed of the sweetest confession in the presence of her Prince. She thought she would hear it from Draco but, she never thought she would hear it from the lips of an Italian Prince, the bastard son of the France’s newly-found ally. Everything that they are was unexpected, forbidden, and romantic but, hearing the words she has been dying to hear was nothing quixotic. It was painful. It was cruel. It was heart-breaking. They never had the chance to begin with. They just clung to the thought that they might. Now that she knew better, she had to do the same to him even if it crushes her.
“I am supposed to marry a King, not a bastard. If you think that our silly dalliance meant something to me then, you are mistaken. You were merely a convenient distraction for me. What led you to believe that I will ever love you, an illegitimate son born from a filthy whorish woman cozying up with the Italian King just to scrape a few gold bars?” She probed, coolly, biting her cheek to prevent her tears from falling.
               She saw the hurt, the embarrassment, and the anger flash in his eyes from her stinging and insulting words. She knew of his insecurities as he knew of hers. They were both each other’s confidant and secret-keeper. To use his diffidence against him was out of line and she can’t blame him for feeling aggrieved by her statement.
“Is that how you feel? You are not saying that just to make me leave because you’re engaged with the English Prince or because you don’t want to risk the war that will inevitably fall on both of our doorsteps if we indulged with our inclinations?” He inquired, his anger dying down as hope replaced its’ control over him with his realization.
“At first, I did but then, I realized what I feel for you is remotely close to love. If you recall, I was betrothed to Draco and for ten years, I have loved him. I still love him.” She riposted.
               While there is truth in her words, she no longer loves Draco the way she did during those years in the Convent. After suffering a major heart-break, she had come to realize that she loves the fair-haired Prince as a brother. She had been convincing herself that she loves him as a man as he would be her husband but, the moment she met Blaise, she realized that the feelings the Italian Prince evoked from her encompasses that of the feelings she felt with Draco. Now, none of those feelings matter because their relationship should have never happened and should not continue any longer.
“What have we been doing, then?” The boy grilled, looking at her with a pained smile.
               Pushing herself off from her post by the window, she glided past him, stopping when she was meters from the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she glanced at him, their eyes connecting. In that brief moment, she saw all the days and nights they spent in each other’s company, the stories they shared, the secrets they kept, and the kisses they stole. Before her tears fall, she broke eye contact and walked out of the room. It wasn’t until she was at the hall when she replied to his question. Soft may her voice have been but, it had never been any louder for the both of them.
“We’ve been pretending all this time.”
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Princess Pansy's Peckish Problems