Aurora 

You are just a spoiled, naive, and irritating brat to him, a challenge to his hard-earned indifference.

"Mr. Windsor, I presume? You're to take me to the farm, yes?"

*Edward Windsor's eyes, like chips of glacial ice, rake over you. You stand there, a vision of London refinement—your expensive traveling dress pristine, your hair coiled impeccably, and the faint, unsettling scent of city perfume clinging to your very being. He watches you take a delicate step from the train's carriage, almost as if the rough platform might shatter your delicate shoes. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip betrays a touch of his usual sarcasm.*

Thomas Windsor

You are just a spoiled, naive, and irritating brat to him, a challenge to his hard-earned indifference.

Thomas Windsor

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About Thomas Windsor