This story was originally posted on my Wattpad account back in 2016 [Crazy that I can say this story is over a decade old 🤯. I wrote it in 2015, oh the cringe.]

I've recently made the decision to move this story (and its rewrite) over to my website, as I'm trying to collect my old works from across the web and create a home for them and their readers. That being said, I thought I'd clean up these old posts across said web and let the readers know that might want to reread the old story for nostalgia's sake (or finish in this case of Tapas, as I'm realizing I never finished uploading the story in full here - sorry! 😭).

It's been really fun/cringey to clean up for my site, but it's also been really cool to see how far I've come as a writer, and also makes me really excited to start posting new stuff!

Anyway -- to everyone who has checked this story out, thank you for your time and sorry you didn't get to see the whole thing! Maybe now you can?

I'm only going to re/post up to chapter 6 here (along with the other story platforms) as a bit of a preview, but the entire story is still going to be free to read on my site.

Thanks again! Happy Reading!

"Get up!" bellowed the instructor, demanding Charles to stand from his bruised and battered position on the ground.

Groaning as he panted, Charles struggled to obey, having been beaten by the three men under the command of the instructor. A brutal, but required training. If he was going to succeed in entering the Heart Estate, he must get up. No matter how many times he was to be knocked back down. Should this be the future, it could be the Duchess' life on the line. Even still, his body screamed in protest to him getting to his knees, at least one of which had been severely wounded.

"Would you have her die? Would you be able to bear the grief, knowing you allowed her to? I said get up!" he hollered.

Charles' eyes narrowed. Not while he still drew breath. The Duchess would never know pain. And if she did, the one who introduced it to her would never draw another. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the crack of his bones to stand tall, lips in a hard line as he prepared himself to continue the training.

"Charles!" squealed the bubbly young Duchess.

Pulled back into the present, Charles blinked his memories away, realizing that he had stopped brushing the young miss' hair, brush idle half way through her chestnut strands, which curled ever so slightly against the cushion of her seat before the vanity. Immediately drawing the brush back and out of her hair, Charles shook his head as the Duchess turned to look over her shoulder.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked, brows pinched as his hand delicately grazed the smoothed strands.

"That's the second time you've gone off in your own thoughts," she scolded with a pout. "Do you mean to have me arrive late to my meeting with Father?"

"Of course not," he sulked, his hand raising to return the brush to her hair. "Forgive me, Emilia."

"What were you thinking about, anyway? You do that, sometimes," Emilia wondered aloud as she returned her gaze to the large vanity mirror.

Charles chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips. Even through the most painful parts of that memory, it was still arguably one of his best. The day he had been accepted into the Heart Estate.

"I was thinking of the first day of this job."

"You mean as my caretaker?"

"Caretaker. Butler. Guard," Charles corrected, extending the list.

He had more than proven himself to the Grand-Duke that he was ready and able to take on the full-time job of all positions, and his instructors had seen enough to vouch for his capabilities, thus securing the rest of his life alongside the woman who had won his heart.

Duchess Emilia Heart was everything Charles had ever wanted. He had cared for and looked after her for nearly ten years, and had admired her for longer. He had devoted his life to becoming a worthy candidate for the closest he could get to a companion – her butler. Specifically assigned to the young Duchess upon passing examination, it was more than a commoner who longed after royalty could ask for. And be granted, no less.

Emilia continued, finding amusement in adding onto the list. "Storyteller, monster hunter."

Charles laughed, finishing the daily task of brushing the Duchess' hair, which he had groomed into the spectacle it was since she was young. Setting the brush down against the vanity, he nodded as Emilia turned around, smiling the smile he had been lucky enough to gaze upon each day, and would do anything to keep intact.

"And by monster, you mean the mouse that found its way into your bathroom," Charles snickered, standing up and stretching. Brushing Emilia's hair took anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour, depending on a number of factors. How chatty Emilia was, how tired Charles was, and how much time he had to spend with her before her curfew.

"I meant what I said," Emilia argued, raising her chin in defiance.

"Yes, well. Like you said, we shouldn't keep your parents waiting."

Sitting in the decorative chair in front of her father's office desk, Emilia greeted him with her usual curtsey, her mother giving her a nod of acknowledgment as Charles closed the door behind them. Standing by the door with his hands folded at his waist, he watched as the glowing Grand Duke gazed upon his only child.

He was just as curious as Emilia, if not more, to find out what this meeting had been about. Unlike previous praise or scolding towards the Duchess, there were now hints given as to what the topic of discussion would be. But seeing both noble figures in such pleasant moods triggered similar ones in them.

As the Grand-Duke cleared his throat, both Charles and Emilia straightened their posture, their bodies tensed in impatient anticipation.

"Emilia," her father began. "We've called you to discuss a matter of great importance."

Charles rose a brow, his initial curiosity immediately turning a shade of worry. He had always kept a list of possibilities in the back of his mind of the things that could ruin his chances with the Duchess. And upon the lack of immediate presenting of a praise, he began shifting through them, while Emilia looked on with her big blue eyes. Boarding school? Emilia was of age and had often spoken about furthering her education. Upon promising to look into it, perhaps they had finally found a suitable institution. One Charles could only hope he would be allowed to accompany her to.

"You've grown into a fine young woman," her mother continued with a proud smile on her painted red lips. "And we are not the only ones to have taken notice."

Charles' heart came to a screeching halt. Leaping bounds over the initial speculation of boarding school, his mind immediately sunk to the depths of his worst, long-awaited fear.

The gleaming smile on her mother's face made Emilia's eyes widen. Her instincts immediately recognized the look on her mother's giddy face, as well as the broad smile of her father. Eyes already beginning to well, she questioned the purposeful pause.

"Father?"

"Prince Benjamin has proposed an engagement."

Both Charles and Emilia's jaws dropped at the reveal. And both pairs of eyes stung with the approach of tears. One of joy, and the other of despair.

Standing from the chair, her hands came to cover her quivering lips. "What?" she exhaled, chest heaving in her excitement.

"You are to travel to his home the day after tomorrow to meet him. He will decide then whether he would like to follow through with the engagement."

Immediately, Emilia broke into tears. Marriage had been all she had ever wanted since she could remember. To have a family and children of her own. She had worked her entire life to become a suitable wife, and finally hearing the proposal of marriage – to a Prince, no less – was more than enough to propel the tears forward.

Charles knew more than anyone of Emilia's humble dream. Her wish to start and have her own family. And though Charles had been comfortable in his current position, he had foolishly let himself fantasize about being able to make that dream come true. He had always thought to himself that when she matured, he would advance in trying to court her.

Had he really been too late? Had he been too humble in his own methods? Had he been that naïve?

"You are to be groomed and at your very best for your travels. Am I clear, young lady?" her father playfully demanded.

Squealing, Emilia rushed forward in her gown, not bothering to lift its front as she dashed, nearly tripping in the process. He stood to meet her, grunting a chuckle as she threw her arms around his portly body, long hair swaying at her back as she kissed at his cheek.

"Yes, Father, I swear it!" she shrilled before spinning around and fumbling towards her giggling mother. "May I have a new dress? Oh, please! Mother, I must."

"Of course," the Grand-Duchess giggled. "You'll have to go into town first thing tomorrow. Charles will be sure to take you." She turned her attention to the internally imploding butler. "Won't you, Charles?"

But Charles wasn't present. His gaze, pale and glazed, stared forward, his mind still racing. Until his silence towards the Grand-Duchess drew the Grand-Duke's attention. Promptly clearing his throat towards the butler, Charles snapped back to reality, head jerking towards the women in atonement. Bowing, he rushed to respond.

"Y-Yes, Miss!" he stumbled before straightening his posture, eyes averted and low. "Of course ..."

Thanks for reading! If you're looking for the story in full, or interested in what else I've got, (mostly spicy political romantasy and one-shots -- but also other stuff??) feel free to check out my site, www.theseekersguildhq.com.