"It's a lovely suit, Mr. Spade," another luridly dressed girl giggles, fanning herself ever so gently with her fan.
He never liked going to these parties his family held; Prideful men with their overly dressed wives and their annoyingly noisy daughters littered the foyer of his home. There were so many people he didn't know, didn't need to know, talking idly of things that they didn't really comprehend with an air of arrogance that it made him sick but for the sake of his father's image, he tries his best to be polite.
Offering a kind smile and subtly edging away from the girl that smelt too strongly of cologne, he chuckled lightly. "Do you really think so?" he asked, dusting the imaginary dirt off his shoulder. He hated the suit. Such a disgusting color: black. It suited his life of aristocracy, he mused, because the existence of a pure heart in the slowly deteriorating world he lived in was almost an inane idea. "My father had it made especially for the occasion," he attempts at conversation.
The girl giggles again (he couldn't find the humor in the dreary conversation and wondered what she thought was so funny but kept to himself) and slyly brushes her hand against his as she moves to his side. "It looks perfect on you," she coos with a suggestive smile gracing her lips.
He wants to tell her to get out of his home and never come back but before he can do so, the girl excuses herself when her mother summons her. He's thankful for the momentary silence and looks for a place to go where no one will bother him. A gentle wind passes through him and he makes his way to the open balcony.
The night time breeze feels great against his face and he leans on the balcony railings as he stares at the flowers below, illuminated by the silver moonlight. He toys with the wine glass he managed to grab before he came out, swirling the blood red wine idly before taking a small sip. The balcony was dimly lit, and he was glad that it was, so it was rather empty of people save for himself.
The gentle clapping of heels against the tiles brings him out of his thoughts and he turns his head slightly to see who it was that joined him.
She's a pretty girl; bright aquamarine colored eyes, rose pink lips and wavy blond hair that framed her heart shaped face almost perfectly. Recognizing her almost instantly, he turns around and bows his head slightly in a show of respect. She was, after all, the daughter of the prince. "Good evening, Princess Elena," he greets, raising his head to force a smile to his face. "What brings you out here?" He tries his best not to roll his eyes as he thinks that another noisy girl has decided to accompany him.
She smiles gently at him and nods her head once. "Please, no need to be so formal with me," she tells him, making her way to the railing next to him. "Just Elena is fine" she says, tucking a tuft of hair behind her ear. "May I ask for your name, though?" she asks, tilting her head to the side to catch a better glimpse of his face.
"Daemon Spade," he introduces, sticking out his hand for her to shake. "Son of Don Fabrizio Spade and the heir to the Spade fortune," he adds in a faux prideful manner. Picking up his glass from its resting place, he takes a sip and afterwards folds his arms atop the railing. "It is my humblest honor to make your acquaintance."
A somewhat awkward silence falls upon them (at least it is to Daemon) so the future Don continues what he was doing before the princess came. The flowers seem to dance in the wind, gently swaying back and forth. It's peaceful, he thinks, and he wishes that he could find some sort of peace for himself as well; a place where justice actually existed.
"They're pretty, aren't they?" she asks quietly, staring at the very same flowers he was looking at. "The xeranthemums, I mean."
He raises an eyebrow but nods slowly. "Yes… Yes, I suppose so" he replies simply.
His eyebrows rise even higher when she takes his goblet of wine and spills it over the edge and onto the flowers down below. She places the glass back down and admires her handiwork with an enigmatic smile that makes Daemon's heart race a little bit. "Even after they've been soiled by this putrid liquid, they still look exquisite."
He leans back down on the railing and nods. The princess was something else.
It was on one of his nightly strolls that he sees her again. Its dark and she's alone and it's definitely not safe for a lady to be out on her own this late at night. He quickens his pace and joins her, bowing his head again out of habit. "Princes—Elena, fancy meeting you here," he tells her. The moon is full and its placid light illuminates her face beautifully.
"I thought it would be nice," she replies simply.
He nods. "Indeed, it is but isn't it a little bit dangerous for a lady, a princess no doubt, to be all alone at night?" he asks a little playfully. "Who knows what sort of people you'll bump into?"
She lets out a tiny giggle and smiles. "People such as yourself, I presume?"
He chuckles. "Perhaps,"
He falls into pace with her, the gentle sound of their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit garden. Placid silence falls upon them but this time, he finds himself contented with it. It wasn't an awkward silence like before and he surprises himself when he even strikes up a conversation. "Why do you go out at night?" he asks. "Surely there is more to see when the sun is shining brightly."
"It's prettier at night," she explains "as if all the lies are gone." She sighs a little sadly, a remorseful smile decorating her pretty face. "It's a shame that they're simply hidden in the shadows; it's all just an illusion."
Elena crouches down by a bush and gestures for Daemon to join her. He does so and stares as she plucks a few white violets from their bushes, gathering them on the lap of her skirt. She turns to him and smiles, reaching up to tuck a single violet behind his ear. "Violets are pretty too, don't you think?"
He pulls the flower off his person, blushing when she stifled a laugh. "You like flowers, don't you?" He drops the little bud onto her open palm and she gathers the rest of her prizes into her hand. He stands up and offers his hand to help her up.
They continue walking and Elena picks out a few of the prettiest flowers she gathered. "Give me your hand," she says and when Daemon does as he's told, she drops them into his hand. "Take them, as a memory of our second meeting, yes?"
The violets become one of his most precious belongings.
It's the first time he's ever looked forward to one of his father's social gatherings, if only for the fact that he might see her again. The rumors about her were always the same; she was polite and kind, caring and smart, beautiful and rich. Everything a man could desire, he supposed, but there was more to her than meets the eye.
Yes, she was smart, that much was obvious. But did anyone realize how intelligent the woman actually was? Not only in terms of academics but also politics morality. She was an enigma, he decided. And he felt a little bit happy at the fact that he, apparently, seems to be the only one to know of this side of hers. The side that made her shine amongst all the other pretty women in the crowds.
His eyes scan the crowd as his father gives out another one of his long and boring speeches about this and that and his eyes light up at the sight of her.
She looks breath taking, he thinks, and his heart beats loudly in his ears when she smiles and waves at him. He excuses himself from his father's side and immediately makes his way to the princess. "Hello again," he greets lamely with a lopsided smirk. " He's not exactly the smooth talker he's rumored to be, he muses. Well, at least not when it comes to girls that he actually likes.
"Hello," she giggles softly and shakes his hand as if it's their first time meeting again. "An exquisite party yet again," she compliments for the sake of formality but she can barely hide the bubbling feeling of happiness at seeing him again.
They share a friendly laugh, as if they were the only people in the world. Maybe they were.
And when the music starts playing and the lights go dim, Daemon takes his chance and grabs her hand gently, escorting her away from the people, away from the noise and into the moonlit balcony where they first met. He smiles, bows lightly and kisses her hand "would you care to dance with me, Elena?"
The music is faint, the scent of the primroses and mallows dancing in the breeze as it played with their hair gently, and the placid moonlight serving as their spotlight.
She smiles. "I'd love to."
Flower meanings (according to the internet):
Four o' clocks- Red flowers traditionally symbolize passion and desire. Pink flowers represent youth and joy. Yellow flowers convey happiness and new beginnings, and white flowers symbolize innocence and reverence.
Xeranthemums- cheerfulness under adversity
White violets- Let's take a chance on happiness
Primroses- Eternal Love
Mallows- Consumed by love
Originally, I thought that four o' clocks were flowers that bloom at night but after researching a bit more, the flower blooms in the afternoon and stays open at night. Either way, the flowers are very beautiful.