Darios arms felt unusually heavy following the morning training and his writing was coming out crooked on the documents. Since he had finished sword practise long before the sun had fully risen he had already been able to get a lot of work done yet the mountain of papers did not seem to have gotten much smaller. In his head he kept cursing the king for leaving all the paperwork for him to do when the man himself was in fact fully capable of doing it.
Since it had been almost impossible for Dario to concentrate when he was in the same room as Amelia he'd gotten the day started earlier than usual. He had already gotten most of the day's planned tasks done and it was barely even noon. The only thing left to do before lunch was to finish the suggestions for successors to the houses where the heads had been executed. The Barrington Earldom and Ainsworth Viscounty had been the most difficult positions to fill but Dario had finally managed to find male relatives to the previous heads who where willing to pledge their alliegence to the new king.
He dipped the quill in the bottle of ink to finalise the leghthy report but noticed, much to his annoyance, that the bottle was completely empty and that there were no refills in the desk drawer.
He sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Gordon!"
The grey haired butler entered his office almost immeadiatly.
"My Lord?" Gordon asked as he politely bowed.
"Why is there no more ink stocked up?"
The butler looked perplexed "But I am sure I stocked up on new bottles before you arrived home yesterday. Is it possible that you have already used them all?"
Dario glanced towards the bin on the floor and very well there were as much as three empty inkbottles in it. He frowned, irritated by his own forgetfulness.
"It seems as though my Lord has worked quite hard today. Perhaps this is a good time for a break?"
Dario lifted his gaze and glared at the butler. He hated it when the old man would step over the line and start acting like a father, though he could not deny that Gordon was right this time.
Dario sighed. "Fine. Tell the staff to prepare my lunch."
"Of course" Gordon smiled and bowed his head. "But while I am here, may I once again remind you about your upcoming birthday. As I said before, you should consider holding a banquet this year as it is important to lighten the people's spirits in this post-war period. It would also be a good opportunity to strengthen your social standing amongst nobility. As you have only had your title for less than two years it's important that you establish your position."
"So it's that time again, huh…" Dario rested his cheek in his hand. If his twentyfifth birthday was already approaching it would mean that Amelia would soon be turning twentytwo, probably before the first snow fell. It had almost been nine years since he had met her for the first time.
"If you think that it'd be too much work I would not mind planning it my Lord."
"Fine. If you're so eager to exhaust yourself then be my guest." Dario smirked towards the butler who responed to his bad joke with a polite smile.
"Then I will excuse myself for now. Your lunch should be ready in about twenty minutes so I shall return then."
After the door had shut behind Gordon Dario tiredly leaned back in his chair. By burying himself in work and training the entire morning he had managed to avoid thinking about the previous night. But now the very moment that he began to relax it all came flooding back to him; the reminder of how detestible of a person he was.
Last night was when he had finally been able to stand face to face with Amelia again, the girl who had saved his life all those years ago and the person who he had spent every single night during the civil war thinking about. But during this momentous moment his head had been filled with nothing but impure thoughts.
He had wanted to press her against the door, place his hand beneath her nightgown and move his touch up her thigh. He had wanted to kiss her lips and run his hands through that wavy hair.
Dario had hardly been able to concentrate on anything but on how her curves showed beneath the thin fabric of the nightgown and he despised himself for the lack of composure.
'Goddamnit!'