The Matchstick

"Your Highness!" Maeve stepped back from Persephone who glared at the King with her cheek red and her lip split. At first Maeve was shocked but she put a pout on her face and clung to his arm. "My King, this maid is quite rude, I was teaching her a lesson."

The man stared down at the wounded maid's face who was daringly glaring at him. He pulled his arm away from Maeve's grasp. "Go back to your quarters, Maeve. You're not to come here unless you're needed in my chambers.

"But, Your Hig-"

"I don't like repeating myself." He spoke over her, sternly. While he fought an eye-contact battle with Persephone. Maeve scoffed and stormed off, murmuring to herself on the way.

Bastille felt trapped in Persephone's gaze, but he hated the feeling. He wanted to take her eyes and trap them in a dark box so that they would never make him feel as inferior as they make him feel. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him as he walked down the corridor.

"Persi!" Ella called out behind them but he didn't stop.

The young woman's wrist began aching from the grip her had on her, so she pulled her hand back, bringing Bastille to a stop. "I don't appreciate being dragged." She said, though her brain and body began giving her warning signs about her tone.

He clenched his jaw in irritation and grabbed her wrist again but this time he pulled her body against his. "I don't have as much patience as you think I do. So I suggest you shut up, and do as I say."

Persephone heeded his words and remained quiet as he began walking again, still pulling her behind him. However, this time his grip on her wrist was notably gentler.

He approached Anna and pulled Persephone to the side. "Fix up her face. And if you accidentally sow her mouth shut, I wouldn't mind." With that he threw her wrist from his hand and walked away. Persephone watched as he disappeared into the bend in the hallway.

"Now what did you get yourself into, darling." Anna sighed, guiding her into the medical room.

"Maeve." Persephone replied.

"Oh, the lady has problems of her own. His Highness is quite aware, hence why he won't punish you for it." Anna gave the young girl a tight-lipped smile.

"Since he's so vicious, how come he hasn't kicked her to the curb yet?" Persephone mocked, though she was genuinely curious.

"That a question everyone in the palace has on their mind." Anna laughed, tapping the medicine on the wound with her finger.

***

"What seems to be on your mind, Sir." Tristian questioned as he leaned into his half empty plate.

Bastille's thoughts were interrupted by the eyes of his soldiers, baring into his face. He cleared his throat and reached for his chalice of wine, which was untouched. The other men shrugged and carried on with their loud talking and laughing. "What makes you think there is something?"

"Your Highness, I only ask because you seems rather out of character today." Tristan pursed his lips, side eyeing the man who dared to look him in the eye as if in fear of having himself exposed. "You've never cared before about Maeve's anger against the maids before."

This caught the King by surprise. Why did he take action when he saw Maeve abuse that maid? Was that maid jut stirring many problems that she somehow began catching his eyes?

It was true. Bastille has never cared about any of the maids. Even when they'd do things to upset him, he'd dispose of them how he saw fit. However, Persephone had done nothing but disrespectful against him and yet he not only let her off the hook, but saved her from being beaten. Tristan was right, he was way out of character.

Although, thinking about Persephone made his ice cold blood run hot. Never in his life had he ever experienced a more infuriating woman with such a stubborn attitude. Bastille stood up from his chair, slamming his fist against the table. This surprised everyone when he simply left without a word after.

'How dare Tristan bring such a distasteful thought in my head.' Bastille thought as he stormed back to his room. He angrily burst his door open and stopped in his tracks upon seeing Ella in the room, laying out his nightwear.

He scanned the room but saw no sign of Persephone, though he questioned why he was looking for her in the first place. "Persephone is just fetching your tea, Your Highness." Ella spoke up.

Bastille's eyebrows knitted into a frown as he glared at the young maid who cowered meekly under his gaze. 'Yes, this was it. This is how people are supposed to act in front of me.' The King thought to himself as he went closer to her. 'That woman is simply deranged.'

"I don't recall asking you where she was, now did I?" He gritted at Ella.

"I-I'm terribly sorry! I didn't mean any harm by it, Sire!" Ella squeaked, taking cautious steps back in fear.

'Knock Knock'

Their attentions turned to the door where Persephone stood with the tray holding Bastille's tea. Her eyes were relaxed as she stared at Bastille with a blank look on her face. "Ella, Anna is calling for you." She said, to which Ella immediately scurried out of the room.

Once a dark silence fell upon the room, Persephone set the tray down on the table and reached for the teapot but Bastille grabbed her wrist with a firm grip. "Who do you think you are?" He clenched his jaw, narrowing his gaze.

"Why would that matter, Your Highness. I'm merely a maid." Persephone replied, yanking her wrist from his grip and caressing the soreness from his aggressive grip.

"Then how come you struggle to act accordingly?" He retorted, grabbing her by the face this time to express the seriousness of his anger. But she didn't even flinch, the woman was ruthless. "I don't think you know the position you're in."

"If you let me go, and use your words rationally, you'll find-" Her words were interrupted by Bastille tightening his grip of her face as he jerked her closer.

"Woman." He bared his teeth at her, clenching his fist in anger. "I'm not in the mood for your games." Persephone grabbed his hand that had a death grip on her face and tried to pry it off because of how much her face was hurting. Her instincts kicked in which helped her successfully escape from his grip, which seemed to surprise Bastille.

"Pardon my rudeness, Your Highness," She stepped back, grabbing her throbbing face. "But I will not allow you to manhandle me however you wish. Even.. if I'm a maid." She took an assertive stance, catching the man by surprise.

Bastille felt slightly embarrassed because he knew what she said was right. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he took a step back. The words running through his head wanted him to have her beaten and thrown out of the kingdom or even banished from ever stepping foot in his kingdom again.

Her crudeness, and sheer disregard for his authority infuriated Bastille. His reputation was being tarnished by a commoner woman who worked as his maid. He would lose the one control he had over his people which was respect and fear and he couldn't afford that.

'Knock Knock'

Tristan poked his head into the room, gaining Persephone's attention but Bastille was still burning holes into her face. "Your Highness, shall I call upon Maeve?" He asked, his arms in the back, his own sign of respect.

"No." The man shot his subordinate down, still keeping his eyes on the woman as if she would shape-shift any moment.

"Perhaps one of the other ladies?" Tristan suggested, taken aback by Bastille's tone.

"Theres no need for that." The King shot him down once again before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I think it's time 'Lady Persephone' learned her place." Persephone's head whipped back to Bastille with a shocked look on her face.

"Understood. I will lock the door from the outside and make sure that no maids disturb you, Sire." With that Tristan stepped back and closed the door quickly before Persephone could reach it.

Persephone's heart began beating against her chest in a panicked manner as she pounder her fist on the door. "Tristan let me out!!" She screamed but she could only hear his footsteps getting further. "Please!!" She kept trying, hoping that someone would come.

Suddenly she felt Bastille's presence getting closer to her. She immediately turned around and glared up at him before slamming her fist against his chest. However the man felt barely a sting, though her actions were irritating him. He took a step closer, nearly closing the gap but Persephone pulled her fist up again. This time Bastille caught her fist with his hand that basically engulfed hers. "Let me go you scoundrel!" She hissed, gritting her teeth.

"Quite the name you're calling the King." Bastiile scoffed, pinning her hand up against the door. "Considering your life is in my hands for the night."

"Let me go!" She cried out, her voice cracking from the straining. "I would rather slit my own throat than give into a disgusting man such as yourself." Persephone spat, she could feel fear filling her chest.

Bastille didn't take to her last sentence well so he covered her mouth with his hand, stopping her before she said anything worse which wouldn't guarantee her safety. However, Persephone immediately bit his hand which was over her mouth, she had bit him so hard that she drew blood. Bastille pulled back his hand and hissed as he stared at the bleeding bite mark on his hand between the index and the thumb.

He could feel his anger rising fast as he tightened his fist and slammed it into the wall. Persephone was silenced by shock. "I suggest you hold your tongue." He huffed, biting back his fury. "I'm not touching you, nor do I wish to. Because, although you disrespect me, your King, and disobey my orders, I still show lenience.

Persephone's heart settled upon hearing the man's words. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but it she felt the he was genuine. "However, you do not speak of this night to anyone, they will think many things occurred in here and you say nothing to make them think otherwise."

"I don't wish to have such stories circulating about me." The young woman argued, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Need I remind you that you injured the King and called him a 'disgusting man' and a 'scoundrel'. You are indebted to me." He narrowed his gaze as he watched his threats settle by the look on her face.

Persephone chewed her lip anxiously as she realized what she had said and done on impulse. "You may sleep on the bed or the floor if you wish, I do not care." Bastille stepped away from her and the warm atmosphere suddenly went cold.

Bastille walked over and laid himself on the bed, turning his back against the woman still standing with her back to the door. Had she misunderstood the man? Of course he had problems and is a beast towards woman, but that man was not the one who stood before her. He could have hit her or even had his way with her if he wanted to, but rather he respected her feelings despite her behaviour towards him since she arrived there.

She quietly approached the empty side of the bed and grabbed the pillow to sleep on the floor but she eyed his injured hand, she reached out and touched the blood to check if it dried but a hand immediately grabbed her wrist.

"Dangerous, to be putting your hands on me."