The Glass Kingdom
A fantasy epic by Relena's Glam Squad
The Sanc Kingdom
The silver moon hung high in the sky, surrounded by glittering stars that appeared to prance against its dark, silken canopy. But the starry sight was nothing compared to the castle gardens below, bedecked with flickering torches and streams of gauzy fabric draped between pillars. Lively music drifted from inside the castle walls, filling the air with cheery strings. Thorny bushes drooped heavily with blooming roses, their sweet, intoxicating scent far surpassing any of the spirits the party guests could enjoy.
Princess Relena Peacecraft slipped off her silk slippers and allowed her feet to press against the cool stones that lined the paths through the garden. If the rest of her body had to be confined for the night - from the tiara fastened to her wound up hair to the corset that cinched her middle - at least, for this blissful instant, her feet could be free. Relena relished in the forbidden pleasure, stepping into the plush grass beyond the stones and wiggling her toes in it as she examined her rose bushes. The flowers had only recently burst into a stunning display, just in time for the summer solstice, as if their bloom alone heralded its arrival. Relena inhaled deeply, and memories both sweet and sorrowful filled her mind as the cherished, familiar scent invaded her nostrils.
The roses came year after year, comforting and reliable, a constant companion in a life that was sometimes more bitter than sweet. Her mother had loved them, too; she'd even claimed that the rose garden was her favorite place in all the kingdom.
Reality stung like a thorn on one of the pretty bloom's branches, but Relena chased any unpleasant thoughts away, determined to take advantage of her brief respite from the party. After all, it was rare she should enjoy a moment all to herself, no matter the time of day or occasion.
And she was enjoying it greatly, until she felt a tug on one of her gossamer sleeves.
"Going somewhere?"
She chuckled softly at the sound of the tenor, glad, at least, of who it belonged to.
"I was trying to," she sighed without turning around.
"You'll only end up disappointing your guests," he responded, and Relena swore she could practically hear him smirk. "And we can't have that."
Finally Relena whirled around, her skirts rustling in a hushed whoosh.
"Trowa Barton, you hate these parties every bit as much as I do." She shook a finger at him in mock scolding. His green eyes, although partially obscured by his long, auburn bangs, glittered at her in response.
"True," he admitted. "But sometimes…" He reached for her outstretched hand, and pulled her close to him before turning her out into a spin. Relena rolled her eyes at his antics.
"One has to play the part," Trowa finished with a sly smile.
Relena released her hand from his hold, and placed both her hands against her throat, pretending to gag. Trowa shook his head at her.
"So dramatic," he sighed. "Anyway, you never know what you're missing out on, sulking out here all by yourself. You could meet your 'prince charming' tonight."
"Oh, again with this?" Relena folded her arms across her chest and shot him her iciest glare. "I thought we had an understanding?" Trowa grabbed her hand and drifted his finger over Relena's ring finger, his expression still full of teasing.
"Right." Trowa gave her a wink. "Unless, of course, someone better comes along before then..."
Relena snatched her hand away, glaring up at Trowa indignantly. "How dare you," she said coolly, arching a single brow. Trowa threw his head back and laughed.
"However…" Trowa moved to place a hand on the small of Relena's back, gently guiding her toward the castle. "I haven't officially asked your father for your hand…"
Relena's shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a shrug. "We don't need his permission," she said, but Trowa shook his head.
"You'd lose your chance to be Queen." Relena sighed and leaned her shoulder into his, comforting in the closeness of her most trusted friend. "And with your brother…"
Relena's heartbeat quickened. "Let's not talk of Milliardo now." She pressed her fingers to Trowa's lips. "But you're right. We can't just run away. Promise you'll ask him, soon?" Trowa lips curled into a smile beneath her fingers. He reached up and grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.
"I shall do your bidding, my Queen," he said. Relena closed her eyes at his facetiousness.
"And do you plan to call me that?" she teased, her blue eyes dancing up at him. She could hardly believe he'd grown to stand a head taller than her, already nineteen and so accomplished as a member of the castle guard. "Queen?"
"You will always be my Queen," Trowa purred.
Relena rolled her eyes and swatted at his arm, then slipped her hand around Trowa's elbow and rested her palm against his forearm. "Very well, then. Please escort me back to the party," she said, gathering up her skirts with her free hand.
Trowa smiled at her and nodded. He straightened his posture, ever so slightly, the buckles on his castle guard uniform shining in the torchlight. Together, they walked the smoothed stone path back to the castle and entered the party, slipping in seamlessly, as if they had never left.
Elsewhere
The dank cell had begun to smell. In fact, it had not smelled good for some time. The damp, stone floor was slick with mold and other growths, and the rushes in the corners had ceased to perform their original duties. Marquis Zechs shifted his position on the floor, his rear end becoming sore from sitting so long on the stone floor. Instead of sitting longer, he rose, stretching his legs and arms as best he could. The ceiling of the cell was too low for him to stretch to his full height. Zechs took two steps towards the metal bars that served as a door to the cell, grasped two bars with his hands and leaned forward, pressing his face against the cool metal.
"Is anyone there?" he called out, his voice echoing down the stone hall. From down the hall, someone shouted something that sounded an awful lot like obscenities, which Zechs chose to ignore. "You seem to have forgotten my supper!"
His words were drowned by the calls of the other prisoners, all shouting for their evening meal as well. Zechs grinned to himself and took a step back from the bars. He couldn't help that he gleaned enjoyment from causing trouble for the guards, and particularly, these guards who barely knew who their King was, let alone a Marquis.
Zechs sat back down on the stone floor, and as he settled into a somewhat comfortable position, he heard the guards roaring at the prisoners to be quiet. None of the prisoners ever heeded the guards' commands, unless they appeared at the cells with their swords drawn. It appeared that was their prerogative now. The other prisoners quieted as the thumps of the guards' boots sounded down the hall. The two men stopped at Zechs' cell and brandished their swords.
"We've asked you to stop causing trouble," the first guard grumbled, tapping his sword against the metal bars. Zechs looked up at them from behind his long, blond hair. He grinned.
"Apologies, sir," Zechs said. "It's just that you forgot to bring the evening meal. I can see that the sun has already set."
The guards banged their swords against the cell door.
"You'll get food when we feel you deserve it," the second guard said.
"Fellows." A third voice from the other direction echoed against the stones. Zechs tilted his head with curiosity. He rose from his place on the stones once more and peered through the bars. It was the head guard of the jail. "This gentleman is free to go."
"But…"
"He was able to provide payment and restitution for his crimes," the head guard said. Zechs groaned inwardly. It would seem the head guard had no qualms about going through Zechs' belongings. He wondered just how much gold he would have left in his purse.
The head guard pressed past the two other guards and brandished a ring of keys from his pocket. He stuck one particularly heavy key into the lock and turned it, the metal grating against metal as the lock came free. The door opened and Zechs was able to step into the hallway and stretch to his full height, which towered over his three captors. The head guard thrust a bundle into Zechs' arms.
"Now, get out of here," he commanded, and pointed down the hall.
"Gladly," Zechs said. He bowed to the guards and strode down the hall towards freedom.
- RGS
