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CURSED ROMANCE

[Warning: Mature Content.] "You are indeed a stubborn one, are you not?" Servyn taunted. "I don't understand your complaints, Your Highness." She was goading him intentionally. Servyn nodded slowly. His smile now lengthened into a mischievous grin. "One day." He began, looking straight into her gloaming eyes. "I will make you say my name." It was not a promise, it was a threat and Hermione could feel it in her bones. The intensity of his gaze on her. The drumming sounds that burst from her chest banged her ears. "I want to go back home." Hermione brought down her eyes to her hands which subconsciously fidgeted with her dress. . . . In a kingdom called Avalon, far, far away from the creatures they fear, lived an innocent beauty. She was rumored to be a witch. She was spited and hated upon by the people of Avalon because of her own misfortune. There was no one who wasn't aware of her past, a past she herself could not clearly recall, which was now imposed on her as a witch. Fate played a very dirty trick on her when the Crown Prince of Avalon intruded her life without an entrance pass. Bringing alive all the dead desires in her that she had decided to bury. Oh, no! they were never there to begin with. Will this life of hers remain sad forever? Time will tell, and oh! time did tell when certain revelations pushes them farther away from each other, imprinting more pains and sorrows to her already broken heart. Remember, it was a dirty trick. His life revolves around her, and hers around him. He cannot breathe when she's not near. Despite the obvious warnings and consequences of their union, he obstinately declared. “Hermione Larabee, I will never let you go.” _______ A/N: It's a tale of forbidden Love and a forbidden romance, goes on its own pace. Don't hesitate to give it a try and your wonderful support.

Moon_light16 · Kỳ huyễn
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170 Chs

Your Lover?

The beating of dust out in the early afternoon broke the whispers of the trees and nature. 

The not too blazing fiery sun shone down on the sweaty figure using dry leaves to dust an olden wooden chair.

Her expression was neutral, having no trace of any emotions at all. Just duly concentrating on her work to get it done as quickly and fine as she could.

Rosalie used the branch of dry leaves to wipe away the leftover dust on the stands of the wooden chair. 

Breath light and face straight. Absolutely nothing on her mind but her work which was given to her.

The moment she raised her head up since she was done, her eyes bulged out from their sockets in horror.

The first thing she did was to look at the direction of the house entrance.

When she saw no one, the dead branch in her hand immediately landed on the floor and she took hurried steps but made quiet footsteps forward.