The dining hall brimmed with anticipation as the young couple, Dove and Rosalyn, made their entrance. Their hands clung tightly together as they stepped into the room, enveloped by a haunting melody that emanated from a trumpet. The melancholic notes pierced the air, quickening Dove's heartbeat with a mix of excitement and trepidation. His legs quivered uncontrollably, while Rosalyn's wide, shimmering eyes mirrored her brother's emotions. Magnificent paintings adorned the walls, depicting awe-inspiring landscapes illuminated by the soft glow of countless chandeliers.
At the heart of the hall stood a grand dining table, commanding attention with its elegance. Dozens of chairs lined the table, but it was at the far end that opulence truly found its place. Elaborate glassware, delicate porcelain, and gilded embellishments adorned the seats, reserved for the highest of dignitaries. The queen, emanating warmth and grace, settled into the chair beside Dove. Her touch was gentle as she secured a handkerchief around his neck, shielding his finery. Across from them, the king took his seat beside Rosalyn, the young princess who still relied on assistance with her meal.
The maids moved with graceful elegance, approaching the table to serve a feast of delicacies on the family's plates. The room was filled with the harmonious symphony of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery as the guests savored the meal. Time passed in shared enjoyment and affection until the king and queen bid their farewells, retreating to their chambers. In her father's arms, Rosalyn succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, her innocent breaths serenading the room with tranquility. Meanwhile, Dove, oblivious to the world's retreat, rose from his seat and quietly made his way toward his chambers.
Intrigued by a faint murmur that reached his ears, Dove concealed himself behind closed doors. His curiosity was piqued, and he eavesdropped on the servants' conversation, unaware of the emotional impact their words would soon have on him. The maids' and butler's remarks struck a dissonant chord within his young heart, evoking emotions far beyond his tender years.
"Look at her now, with all her fortune," one maid spoke with disdain. "She was one of usâan immigrant from humble origins. I heard she used to sell gloves. Can you imagine? And now, by some twist of fate, she reigns as queen."
The bitter voice of the butler interjected, dripping with resentment. "I remember her from those days. She had so little, enduring a life of hardship. Her worn-out shoes caused her pain with every step, her blood staining her socks and seeping into those wretched shoes. She was invisible to us then, and now she presumes to wield authority as if she were born to it. It's contemptible, a mockery of what is just."
The maids erupted in mocking laughter, their scornful tones cutting through the air like daggers. "Respect her as a queen? Never," one sneered. "She's nothing more than an opportunist, unworthy of our reverence."
A chilling silence descended upon the room, suffocating the air and magnifying the weight of their cruel laughter. Dove's young eyes widened in terror, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and fear. In his mind's eye, his mother's once radiant and joyful face twisted with anguish, tears streaming down her cheeks. He could vividly imagine her pleading for mercy, her voice trembling as she confronted the torment inflicted upon her by their hateful words. The tormentors' scornful laughter echoed in his ears, an agonizing symphony of cruelty.
As the vision unfolded before him, Dove felt his own anguish rise, his chest tightening with the weight of empathy and horror. His small frame trembled, and his features contorted with profound sorrow. Every line on his mother's face etched itself into his memoryâeach tear, each trembling breath, and the unwavering determination that flickered within her eyes despite her vulnerability. The realization of the hate directed towards his mother, rooted in her humble origins and Chinese heritage, added an additional layer of torment to his young face, his brows furrowed and his lips quivering.
Stepping out from his hiding place, Dove's tear-streaked face carried the marks of profound emotional turmoil. The image of his mother's pain etched itself onto his expression, mirroring the anguish he felt inside. In a trembling voice, he summoned every ounce of courage he could muster, his words laden with raw vulnerability. "No! Please! What has my mother ever done to you? Why do you continue to hate her?"
His plea hung in the air, filled with a desperate yearning for understanding and compassion. But the echoes of their cruel laughter remained, taunting and unyielding.
"Dove! Wake up," Neil's voice gently shook him, his grip on Dove's hand offering reassurance and grounding. Gradually, Dove's heavy eyelids fluttered open.
The past week all Dove did was sleep; he woke up very occasionally as his body felt drained most of the time. But some of his energy was coming back. He was lucky that he had survived. The old lady had immediately sought out help when Neil returned home with a passed-out Dove, and the medications had helped him come a long way.
"We have to leave for Alynthi soon. As the last two items required will be found there. But I don't want to leave unless you're positive that you're feeling better, and don't try to kid me. It's very easy to read your facial expressions," Neil said sternly.
Dove rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm feeling better. We can leave tomorrow morning as soon as we wake up."
"You're sure you'll be able to make the journey, right? Please don't strain your health."
"I won't. I'm sure I can do it. Also, you don't need to worry about the lodgings this time. I am a close acquaintance of the eldest prince there," Dove said.
"But what if he alerts your stepmother? I'm positive that by now the news of our escape must've spread in Cascadia like wildfire," Neil said.
"Don't worry. I assure you he won't. I take responsibility for it."
"Okay, then I'll trust you."
Such a simple sentence yet it still made Dove's heart skip a beat.
Each day, he saw Neil's devotion as he nursed him back to health, which made his feelings stronger for him. And it was getting harder to have an air of indifference around him.
The next day, both of them woke up before dawn. They thanked the old lady for all her help and left behind a small token of appreciation.
The crutches left were limited but enough for an hour or two-long journey to the kingdom of Alynthi via a chariot. In the chariot, they made some occasional small talk, and then Dove drifted to sleep.
When Dove started regaining his consciousness, he saw himself snuggling over Neil's shoulder. His eyes widened, and his heart raced as the proximity between them increased conspicuously. He wanted to do something about his awkwardness, the way he felt as if worms were crawling inside his stomach when their closeness grew. But he kept quiet and endured it all for Neil's sake.
Soon they crossed the border of Cascadia and entered the illustrious kingdom of Alynthi, a sense of wonder embraced them. The city stretched out before them, a vibrant tapestry of opulence and grandeur. Magnificent architecture adorned the streets, reflecting the elegance and refinement of the early Greek and Roman eras.
The air carried a symphony of sounds, harmonizing the bustling energy of the city with nature's melodies. The cheerful chirping of birds serenaded the passersby, their sweet songs intertwining with the laughter and chatter of the city's inhabitants. The gentle rustling of leaves and the rhythmic whispers of the wind added a soothing undertone, weaving through the atmosphere and creating a sense of tranquility.
Aromatic wafts of freshly cut grass mingled with the fragrant blooms that lined the meticulously maintained gardens and parks.
When they reached the main market city, a masquerade was going on. The royal family was going to patrol the streets later to celebrate with their people. This was an opportunity they had to make use of.
After they disembarked, Neil purchased two masks for himself and Dove, while Dove asked the locals about the particular celebration.
Soon, the first beats of music were heard. The wild music of the orchestra seemed to echo their steps. And there struck the wooden clock which stands in the velvet-covered roads. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock.
The distant murmurs of the people were stiff-frozen as they stood still on the roads, frolicking from their homes, shops, and offices. The echoes of the chime died awayâthe evolutions of the waltzers were quietedâand a light, half-subdued laughter floated after them.
And then again, the music swelled, and the dreams lived and writhed to and fro more merrily than ever as the royal family made its entrance on the road. Small groups of people in dazzling costumes began talking and drinking while live music played in the background.
Dove's infectious smile illuminated the grand ballroom as he gracefully twirled with the young girl. His mask, a dazzling work of art, gleamed in gold and sparkled with intricately arranged sequins, accentuating the regal contours of his aquiline nose. With a gentle sweep of his hand, he brushed aside a stray lock of hair that threatened to obscure his forehead, fully immersing himself in the dance and the enchanting atmosphere.
Beside him, Neil, his raven hair sleek and complemented by the vibrant magenta feathers he wore, moved with elegance and poise. His eyes were subtly fixed on Neil, intently studying his actions. Dove's observant gaze caught every detail â the slight scratch of his neck when irritated, the delicate adjustment of his cuffs when feeling out of place. Neil's idiosyncrasies held Dove's fascination, each gesture painting a vivid picture of his authentic self.
As the royal family's magnificent chariot approached, the bustling crowd instinctively migrated toward the sidewalks, creating a clear path for the procession. The air was alive with excitement and anticipation as dancers adjusted their attire and masks, continuing their graceful steps with renewed fervor. The chariot glided past, carrying within it the queen, her two sons, and her youngest daughter.
The young princess, brimming with youthful exuberance, clapped her hands in time with the lively beats, her joyful spirit spreading infectious cheer. She beamed at the adoring crowd, waving with unadulterated delight. The queen, a paragon of grace and poise, offered a refined vertical hand wave, the subtle twist of her wrist adding a touch of elegance to her gesture, acknowledging the crowd's adulation while maintaining her regal composure.
The eldest prince engaged in polite conversations with those who approached the carriage, his impeccable manners a testament to his royal upbringing. Meanwhile, the second prince seemed detached from the festivities, his back turned to the audience, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the carriage window.
Dove's previous correspondence with Prince Cedric had formed a unique bond, their letters bridging the distance between them and nurturing a friendship that was both genuine and heartfelt. Through their written exchanges, they shared dreams, aspirations, and the challenges they faced as young individuals navigating their paths.
Hints of Prince Cedric's personality had emerged through their letters. His words carried a sense of warmth and compassion, displaying a deep understanding of Dove's experiences and a genuine interest in his well-being. Prince Cedric had become more than just a distant acquaintance; he was a confidant, a support system in a world where Dove often felt like an outsider.
"Prince Cedric!" Dove's voice soared through the air, breaking through the jubilant atmosphere. Neil flinched at the sudden volume, surprised by Dove's outburst.
"When did he return to my side?" Neil wondered, struggling to keep pace with the unfolding events.
"Come on!" Dove exclaimed, his hand gripping Neil's tightly as he urged him toward the passing chariot.
"Prince Cedric!" Dove called out again, his voice brimming with excitement and anticipation. The prince's polite expression transformed into one of intrigue and recognition as he heard Dove's voice. A spark of connection flickered in his eyes, and content with capturing the prince's attention, Dove continued to call out, waving his arms vigorously and motioning for him to come closer. Astonishingly, Prince Cedric gave an unexpected command, bringing the carriage to a halt before stepping out and striding purposefully toward them.
"Prince Dove, is that truly you?" Prince Cedric's voice resonated with genuine curiosity and surprise.
Dove's elation was palpable as he nearly leaped with joy. "Yes, it's me!" he exclaimed, removing his mask and bowing humbly before the prince. The whirlwind of events had left Neil momentarily stunned, frozen in place as he struggled to process the unexpected encounter.
"So, you finally did decide to visit me! I'm really happy." The princes engulfed each other in a warm embrace.
After they parted from their embrace, Cedric spoke, "Well, you ought to come to the palace and stay for a few days. I'll take you to all the best tourist attractions in the kingdom as well."
"Okay, I'll be in your care," Dove said.
"That's the spirit." The prince's eyes fell over Neil, and he finally acknowledged his presence, "And who's this?"
Dove wrapped his arm over Neil's shoulder, "He's, uh, a close friend."
"Close friend, you say. Well, then any friend of yours is a friend of mine. You're welcome to join us."
When the prince faced him, Neil glanced at the man behind the silver mask. His dark blue eyes reflected his inner strength and grace. The candlelight shimmered in his eyes, illuminating his whole personality within. It only lasted a moment, but it dissipated his fears partially.
That's when Neil finally snapped out from his reverie, "Thank you for your Highnesses." He bowed awkwardly and followed them to the carriage.
Despite their plan being successful, Neil had an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
A/N
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