Dyon needed to use every strength she had to stifle and restrict a peal of laughter from erupting from her mouth or a smile from appearing on her face. But it was hard, however, she was achieving it somehow.
Yianni's eyes widened and became the same size as saucers. His eyes glazed over even though they still stared at Dyon. His lips trembled in an attempt to ask questions but at the same time, finding it difficult to utter a word. Yianni's breathing wasn't rhythmic any longer as it hitched once in a while in his throat. He could feel a pain in his chest that threatened to interrupt his breathing. Quickly, the chagrined king rose from the position he was in as he took unsteady steps backward, while he used his hands to blindly search for a chair he could sit on.
"Are you going to be alright? Are you fine, Yianni?" Dyon asked, with a concerned look on her face as her face bent in faux worry.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!