Dawn falls. The poised princess of the Sun kingdom was enervated and languid, as she has already gone through piles after piles of epistles from other nations without any hiatus but the occasional respite from the consorts bringing even more papers. The volatile emotional side of hers makes it more difficult to concentrate on meaningless letters, and she sometimes found herself giving only a cursory glance, while vigilantly reading other epistles without any particular reason. She was losing acuity. If it was her last month, or last week, any moment before the King fell ill, she would have remained that boorish princess who would casually sneak out furtively to get food, or just skip the whole thing. However, despite the unwillingness at present, her acquiescence was so obscure that the consorts actually mistook it for the ardent attitude of a workaholic, as she did not utter even a single complaints and just focused on the papers. Some said that they were glad because Stella did not have the truculence of the braggart Chimera, and some believed that it was only because she wanted to prove her rights and powers as the one who possessed the demise from the King. Some said it was because of the unfortunate nurture that has created an ingenious and resplendent princess. But Stella pays no mind to the rumors, and refuses to be an interlocutor. She abrogates vindicating any part of the people's words, which plagues some of the governors, and even ignites indisposition towards the poor princess. Her friends continuously bolstered her, using everything they have to defend her, but it was futile since the main character of the rumor did not do anything.

She finds herself in debacle, and the room along with the clothes and everything around starts becoming scanty to her soul. She cannot breathe. No matter how fervent with work she might convince herself to be, no matter how impetuous she wants her mind to believe, she encounters failure and helplessness in front of the deluged desk. If she tries to be veracious with her conscience, she would know for sure that this body should have collapsed any moment, had it not been for her willpower. She feels so tired that if anyone were to enter the room right now, she would not be able to notice. Such debility at the moment can be the death of her, but she has no mind to care about that for now.

And someone did enter the room, maybe few minutes ago.

Fortuitously, it was Brandon, who had been so worried about her that he was practically pacing back and forth for about half an hour outside before entering. And the scenery that he sees breaks his heart.

His princess seems to have all the perspicacity drawn out of her face, which leaves behind this apathy expression to everything else in the world. She looks ascetic.

"Stella!"

He cried, heartbroken at the nonentity in her eyes. She was never such a person. She was always buoyant, jubilant and extremely effervescent, sometimes even a little too convivial. She used to be a supercilious braggart and did not think about anyone else, too. She used to be so selfish and self-centered that sometimes he had to wonder why he liked her in the first place. But right now, he just wish if she could go back to that loquacious and carefree self, instead of this distant oligarch in front of him.

"Stella, you need rest."

Steps around the armors on the wall, Brandon picks up a lance. Knowing that there is no way she would listen to him saying this casually, he will just have to force her.

"Stella." He repeats, the top of the lance pointing at her. "I know you are not like any other girl, you do not have acrophobia, nor do you have any weird fear that I could just use. But at least, you should be able to detect danger when someone does this to you, right?"

She looks up at him, at the javelin, but nothing alters. She is not just some bourgeois girl who is playing acting. She is seriously into the work unconsciously here, and it sounds incongruous to the princess that she has to stop what she is doing. However, even she at that time viscerally feels the ascendancy of the weapon, so she could not ignore it.

"Are you going to stab me?" She asks.

Is that her preamble to the boyfriend who worries for her so much? It hurts him when he feels the coldness. Brandon chuckles ironically.

"How robust you are, Stella. How can I do that, when you have stabbed me already? Obliquely, in right here." He puts a hand on his left chest.

"I have not." Stella bristled. "Great to see you still have the humor to say such jokes. Brandon, don't you see that I'm working?"

As if he did not hear what the girl was warning, Brandon broaches closer, pushes the tome about epistolary aside, advocating her chin with his hand. Her frustration is somehow defunct with the contact of their skin.

"Brandon." The princess growls, but he could tell she is not unhappy about it. He feels as if she is trying hard to fight back her usual blithe self. "I will postulate that you are trying to commit a sexual transgression here, if you don't stop this childish act right now."

"You are starting to look rotund, princess." He puts on his histrionically surprised face, while tittering. "Have you not moved around lately? You will get fat just by doing nothing!"

Her eye brows turn into a frown, and she juts her head out of his grip, yelling: "Brandon!"

Brandon, as omniscient about his girl as he is right now, knows that her blank expression has been allayed. He suddenly feels like an onus has been lifted from his heart when he sees a small hint of smile deep inside her eyes. Her voice is such euphony to his ears, compared to all the past days' cacophony of the mother and daughter of Cassandra, denouncing to every single soldier in the palace to be their privilege bodyguards. Her soft cheeks feel like liniment to his skin, and before he knows it, both of his hands have already takes over her face, cuddling her cheeks like a baby. Just a little further, and he would have kissed her.

"I demand retraction from your fingers, gentleman." Stella, not being a tractable, remains firmly omnipotent. However, her strength cannot compare to that of a brawny man, and no matter how hard she tries to pluck his hands out, she fails.

"You still need to hone your litheness, if you want to beat me."

"Are you deriding me?"

Brandon shakes his head, exculpating himself for just wanting to tease her a bit, and by no means dare to cause a tumult. "Your body is weak," commenting him when examining her hands. "Are you even ambulatory in this state? Desist your work and get a rest, Stella. It's late already. A lummox cannot handle the paper well. This is not precipitous or anything…"

"What do you know?" Stella snaps back, refuses to leave her seat. "I ought to finish this as soon as possible, and this is nothing compared to what my father had to do. The officers might sanction a truant, but I myself do not. "

"I am just trying to ameliorate the situation, Stella, but it looks like you give me no choice." He whispers, and bends down his head. He capitulates to the lukewarm expression on her face, capitulates to the desire ignited from days to days not talking to her. A man cannot be precluded from staying by his girlfriend's side for too long. To truncate, his patience has ran out. She looks so salacious to him right now, and he swears to himself not to deplore even after this precocious turpitude, despite the trepidation amassing inside.

"B-Brandon… What are you planning to do… This is too close…" She ordains him to get away, but he remains unmoved. The parlor is capacious, but she feels so suffocating. His face is too close to hers. Her heart beats vigorously, so much that she fears even he might be able to hear. Half of her mind is filled with desire for him, but the other half is now crying out for being an impious daughter and impoverished heir. She feels somewhat sanctimonious, now that she is sitting by her working desk but thinking about various lustful things. She – the most arbitrary person in the kingdom at the moment – is falling for such a trite excuse?

At the moment he presses his lips against her, she views it as an execrable feelings. But this deprecation soon turns into immoderate pleasure, for the girl inside her has also been under pressure for too long. This side of her is immutable, and though it is impromptu, she still leans forward towards his lips, returning the kiss.

However, the sagacious side still wins, as she ends the kiss fast by biting lightly at his lower lip. "Stop it. You are desecrating this place."

He smiles with satisfaction that at least she had some reaction. "I am not. Just giving it a bit of salutary atmosphere, and salubrious motivation for its owner."

Sit back straight on the chair to buttress her appearance, Stella continues her gaze at the paper, completely ignores the boy standing beside.

"Sunshine ~" Brandon, refuses to be despondent, continues bothering her. "Get your eyes off that boring paper filled with extraneous maelstrom, and come play with me~ I know you want to~"

With destitution focusing on what she has to do, Stella castigates. "Brandon, just because you have the prerogative of my boyfriend, doesn't mean you can incessantly overtly disturb my work like that."

He chuckles at the sardonic tone in her voice. She is gradually gaining herself, at least mentally, and he considers that a half success. He has the presentiment that this will go well, therefore, he boldly pushes the epistles aside and slides his face in front of her. "Trust me, this will be expedient. Just take a half-an-hour break with me, it won't be long. And I promise I will not bother you tomorrow. It will even expedite your working speed."

Not that she believes him, but half of her already wants to hug him deeply, nuzzle with him and fall asleep for hours. And the other half of her urges the princess to focus on work, but she convinces herself that once Brandon stop interrupting her like he has promised, more work will be done.

Glaring at the boyfriend, she growls before standing up. "You'd better be grateful that I am munificent for putting up with you like this. If you don't keep your promise, I will incarcerate you. No, even worse, I will lynch you to death."

He bursts out laughing when she finishes her warning. His princess has a very big ego, so she does not want to look sanguine at this moment. But he knows for sure, as she threatens him 'to death', that her cheerfulness has come back, albeit incipiently.

"Very well, princess. I will be your analgesic. Come on, let's go!"

With that, he drags her out of the suffocating parlor into her own bedroom.