(I went through my English papers to find this)
Darkness looms over him like a cloak, the sound of multiple horses clambering down the cobblestone corridor ring in his ears. “Don’t let him get away!” A wicked grin makes way to his face as he holds on tight to the metal ladder. Dropping to the ground, he makes his way back to the castle.
He hums an old tune as he walks, the starless sky completing the eerie mood. With each step his light hair drips from the heavy rain before. “I see you’ve taken a liking to these types of nights.” Halting, he scowls at the owner of the voice. “I didn’t think that was any of your concern.” His hostile stance didn’t go unnoticed by the old man in front of him. “Just curious why a prince would be sneaking out this late.” The younger scoffs. “My title doesn’t dictate what I do.” Spotting a rose growing beside the wall, he picks it, shielding it from the rain with his shroud.
“Foolish boy...you’ll only ruin our country if you become king.” With one last glare, he takes the smooth brass handle to the entrance into his grip. “Then it’s a good thing you're not the one to determine the fate of this country.” Frustration fuels his already running mind as drowsiness creeps around the corner. Making his way up the marble staircase, his stern look momentarily softens as he glances at the white door.
A sigh passes through his lips as he shakes his head. He finds himself standing at the door, hesitating to knock. “It’ll make no difference.” He tells himself, running a hand through his messy hair. The door opens and his gaze snaps up. “Sir, are you here to visit her?” Nodding, he steps aside for the nurse to pass him.
Upon entering the room his shoulders drop at the sight of the woman. Her face abnormally pale, eyes glazed over. “Where have you been, young man.” He smiles at the sound of his mother’s voice, kind and gentle. “I...I went for a walk.” His stomach churns as he spits out the lie. “At this time?” He can’t tell her the truth, her condition is already worsening and she doesn’t need another thing to stress her.
“Yes...and I brought you this.” Opening his jacket he reveals the fully bloomed red rose. Her eyes lit up at the sight, after all, she hadn’t been outside in months. “It’s beautiful.” Her dainty hands take the gift from his gloved ones. “Has he come to see you?” Inquisitively, one of her brows raise. “Father.” He states in an displeased tone. She stares down at the pastel quilt for a moment. “Yes, he has.” Without him noticing she tucks away the papers littered with inked words that she’d been reading previously.
She has her own secrets as her son does, that neither of them would ever speak.
I hope this helps!
I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for
