Quietly, Jayne had gotten out of bed without making a sound. She then walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Jayne then stood in-front of the mirror and let out a sigh as she ran a hand through her hair. Jayne was still having thoughts about when Ramsey went to war. It terrified Jayne so much the fact that he was most likely to die. But luckily he didn’t. Walking away from the mirror that hung over the sink, Jayne then went over to the walk-in shower. Quickly taking off her night clothes, she got in. It only lasted for at least 15-20 minutes. Once done, she got out and grabbed a towel off a shelf that stayed next to the shower. Wrapping the towel on wet her body, she walked back out to their bedroom, to the closet to find something decent to wear.
Things changed a lot for Ramsey, recently he has been more kind with his wife, the war probably made him realize that he was wasting his life, and that he was about to die and leave his wife alone in this world. He realized he was wasting his life on arguing and getting mad, not really spending the time he should with her, so that made him change. He starts to help her more with the house stuff, and gets more flirty with her time to time. Of course there’s times he snaps but he stopped punishing her, he only yells now, if it really pisses him off.
“You know, sometimes clothes bother me.”
He mumbled this words, as a small smile would be placed on his face. We could see that he was still sleepy, since his eyes were still slightly red. But he couldn’t spend the whole day sleeping, even if he wanted to. He was shirtless, only with simple trousers one. Over Ramsey’s body, he had scars, fight scars, from the war. Those scars never left his body, he tried to use his healing abilities, but they never disappeared. Well, he can’t complain about scars, it doesn’t bother him that much, so. He had short hair, with a light brown color, and his beard, that he probably didn’t done in couple days or so.
<3>
“Language!” Nanny exclaimed. Tempest didn’t even look the least bit sorry.
Mister Pickerworth’s Pub
“Hold!” One of the knights exclaimed as their riding party stopped in front of the pub. He dismounted and walked back to the carriage. Tempest had her hood up and could see the townspeople gathering around, curious as to who from the royal family would be visiting their humble establishments.
“Are you sure you wish to do this, Your Highness?” he asked. Tempest, who was wearing a hooded cloak nodded.
“T’would not due for his subjects to see him fall so far from grace, would it not?” she asked.
“It may be too late for that, Princess.” the knight stated, looking toward the pub. They could both hear robust singing and Tempest had a feeling she knew what she would find when she went inside. The knight escorted her from the carriage and lead her in.
Music and laughter caught her attention and she could see a large group of people crowding around the bar, where the singing and lewd comments were coming from.
“Make way for Her Royal Highness, Princess Tempest of Brax!” the knight announced loudly over the din.
That got an immediate reaction from almost everyone and if it weren’t for the fact her father was three sheets to the wind and oblivious to his surroundings, it would have been so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
Tempest stepped forward and removed her hood, hearing the gasps of surprise from the people around her. She ignored this, only having eyes for her father and the blonde tart that was currently draped all over him. Her gaze went icy with anger and she stepped toward them on slippered feet.
“If I were you, madame, and I use that term loosely, much like yourself I would imagine,” her beginning words drew a collective gasp from the surrounding crowd, “I would remove myself from my father’s side this instant.” Tempest scowled, the fires of anger burning in her eyes. If one were to look closer, they would also see that her hand was starting to smoulder. She kept her eyes on the blonde woman, waiting.
“Mideon.”
“And you do not believe I am who I say?”
“I do.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I have seen the Daughter of Brax and she is simply an annoying 7 year old abomination foisted upon us by that whore of a mother. You’re just a servant in their household, having delusions above your station, probably warming the Prince’s bed.”
Oh this was bad…
The knight who was her escort directed everyone who was standing around to back away as Tempest exploded in a red hot rage. Her hand flashed out, directing a fireball of immense proportions toward the man who dared to malign her family and her character. The man’s screams filled the air as he burned to death, echoing out into the streets of the village. Young children cowered behind their mothers in fear as they listened to it.
His screams tapered off and at the end of it all, until nothing but ash remained.
“If anyone else wishes to speak of my family…don’t.” she warned. There was no doubt that this young woman was definitely who she claimed to be. Giving Minerva a final glance, she turned on her heel and left the pub, her escort right behind her.
Stepping into the carriage, her gaze softened upon seeing her father, slouched in the corner, his head at an uncomfortable angle. She hated seeing him in such a state and she moved to place his head in her lap, removing the still clinging peanuts from his cheeks and forehead.
“Father, what am I to do with you.” she sighed. A long drawn out snore was her only answer as the royal party headed back to the castle. Tempest stared out the window with sad eyes. Mother, we need you now more than ever. Please come back to us.
Minerva growled and then there was a massive bright red glow of light, before the door was blustered off its hinges and landed with a dull thud.
“Don’t you know your own sister when you see her, Portia?” Minerva huffed angrily, barging in, as Portia twirled her blonde hair around her finger acting innocent. “You’re the one that looks like a virgin milkmaid after some well hung stable boy. Psh. What do you want?”
Minerva grinned slyly and then uttered. “So…who here is hungry for a tasty young girly, named…Tempest?”
The three witches all looked at each other and then crept towards Minerva.
“The demon child? Ethel asked, her mind racing with how good that child’s soul would taste.
“The one and only.” All the witches started to cackle, as a raven sat in the window ledge listening in to the diabolical schemes.
<3>
