Pacing around the throne room, Leon could only mutter to himself. "It was a spell, a definitive spell." He's been repeating that phrase for the past hour, and still, no other explanation for the way he was feeling other than that. No, no. Ever since that night when he found out you were a witch who snuck into the royal party, he couldn't stop thinking about that obnoxiously smug expression you had when you saw the look on his face at your reveal.

Those lips were a pain to look at too. He grumbled at the sudden thought popping up in his mind, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "That damned witch!" He cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll find her cottage and rain hell upon her until she cures me."

That's how he got himself in this situation, always visiting your cottage whenever he could. It didn't take you that long to realize that he wasn't actually under a spell-as if his frustratingly cute actions totally didn't make it obvious at all, you decided to play along with him. Even after providing him an anti-love potion, he still wasn't satisfied. Oh, how fun it was for you to have the kingdom's prince wrapped around your finger, and he was in denial of his feelings. So blind.

And now, he was impatiently poking his nose around in your home, eyeing all the ingredients you sought out because he yet again, requested for another potion. "None of your potions cure me from this sickening feeling. You might as well give me your strongest."