The Tyrant’s Broken Princess
For a moment, he let himself get lost in her silver orbs, the way it shined despite the emptiness in them.
He could see the dirt on her, her unwashed toes, a cry from the woman he once knew her to be. Her hair hadn’t lost its length in the past years since he had seen her, but even grew more. And her face, with all the five years of suffering still bore the princess she was before her father was killed.
He clenched his jaw at the thought of who she is, annoyance seeping into his veins for letting himself get distracted, “I said get up!” He angrily commanded before matching towards her, grabbing a handful of her hair and using it to drag her up.
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