The king expected the servants to tend to his offspring by themselves. His heir was old enough to take care of himself, so he expected him only to require a servant to pick up after him and alert him of the time. He was responsible, as he should be. He spoke highly of being king one day, and he should follow up with these words with his actions.
The crystal chandeliers had been lit and polished. The chefs were earnestly working on preparing dinner for the long list of maidens and their parents, one that would be eaten with great care and poise with his son, Lovino, inspecting each and every woman while he ate his favorite, lamb, with exotic sides and dishes. He would then be positioned at the door to the ballroom, nodding to the parents as they left their girls in a long line. He would kiss each maiden's hand, ask their name, and welcome them to the palace of Raviel with a warm, convivial smile.
He would then dance with each maiden, inspect her personality with close eyes, and determine which ones he would like best. These girls would be invited to stay for an extended period as the king and queen discussed with their parents how diplomatic alliances would form. These alliances would shape their kingdom, and thus, grow and expand and become better as a whole. Then, all the women would either stay in the castle to rest until morning, where they would leave to retreat back to their own kingdoms, castles, or humble homes. Lovino would then spend time with every girl he picked from the selection. He would then weed them out when they grew dull or not in his interest, and soon, he'd be left with one.
The king thought it an infallible plan.
The young prince Lovino was sat at the end of the long, long table, one only reserved for diplomatic meetings, and his father sat on the far end. They had called together fifty girls, most with two parents each, some with just mothers and some with just fathers. Lovino was amazed he could still hear his father at the end of the table through all the clamor of silver against porcelain dishes. He supposed it was just his father being his loud self, or the way the tall room was built. Sounds echoed from everywhere and he was able to hear each individual voice. His little brother Feliciano sat to his right, eager to please while Lovino silently ate his favorite meal and wordlessly piled vegetables, mushrooms, potatoes, fruits, and meats on his plates that he ate with care and grace, dotting his mouth with the cloth napkin whenever he finished a dish with the elegance some would say of a woman. He was merely clean and composed. He wouldn't be seen with grease from the lamb on his lips, nor the sauce of any cranberry on his chin. His brother tried to mimic him, so it wasn't a habit needing fixing in the slightest.
In fact, Feliciano, the 'cute' and well-spoken eleven-year-old prince of Raviel was analogous to a parrot. He would often squawk back what Lovino once said in the absence of company, always by his side when Lovino tolerated it. He imitated his actions very well, trying to be like his brother, who would once become king. He sometimes even wore Lovino's cologne to seem older. He was currently mocking Lovino's actions perfectly in sync, much to the older prince's irritation, but was also complimenting maidens on their looks with manners no eleven-year-old could ever hope to achieve. Some giggled mindlessly and thanked him as their cheeks reddened like ripe strawberries and seemed just as sweet. Others thanked him with a cool reply, often not looking at him, but also seeming very infatuated with Lovino himself, as if they were only interested in the title they could hold if they managed to be the select few Lovino picked to stay and possibly marry. He paid no attention to them, although he understood wholly why they were acting so vile.
The king demanded attention through the mere power of his voice. Lovino barely noticed. He was pointedly glared at by his father until he looked up from finishing his final course. "What an honor it is to have you all here to my kingdom." He beamed. Lovino noticed upon further inspection that his plate was clear, while other girls struggled to finish their desserts. Probably much more food than they were ever used to having. "I earnestly hope your dinner was palatable to your taste, and now, I hope that you will join us in the ballroom, where we will celebrate my dear son's twentieth birthday." Applause was sounded and Lovino bowed his head in thanks for being one year older, a very formidable accomplishment in the eyes of the world by the sound of their applause. He tried very hard not to roll his eyes and he left the table to stand mutely at the door while parents made their way into the room and shook the hands of the king and queen. The line formed. Some girls rushed to be the first in line, as to be the thought he would carry throughout the entire night. Others kindly fell in to place, not worrying at all. Some were like does, shaking in their spots with their well-designed fans violently beating the air around their faces. They stood scattered about. He looked from the long line to the first woman, a fierce-looking maiden who smiled a little too hard and forced her hand into his a little too readily, as if she was very determined to be in his select few.
Lovino was a little put-off by her, but smiled anyway, asked her name, and kissed her hand, saying it suited her well. Greta would suit a rhinoceros well, too. He laughed when she melted under his touch, not at her wicked way of doing so, but merely of the thought of him ever having to kiss the hand of a wild beast. Next woman.
The greetings were quickly becoming something he did by rote, never really meaning anything he said until he came across maiden number twenty-two, which had very beautiful blond locks of hair, although they were cut close to her shoulder blades as if some act of rebellion. She had shining green eyes that sparkled when she finally looked him in the eye. Lovino couldn't help but smile; much of his smiling that night had been forced anyway. She was indifferent until she finally got up to him, and seemed to smile herself when she saw his large smile. Instead of greeting him, she waited for him to speak. He waited for her, and realized that he was holding up the line. His father looked at him from beyond the shoulder of the corresponding parent, looking at his reaction.
Lovino rushed to recover. "Welcome to Raviel, it's a pleasure to have you." He stammered, and her teeth were shown when that smile became a grin. Her hand was bare, unlike the others, and he gladly took it into his own and raised it to his lips, barely leaving her gaze. "What is your name?"
The maiden paused. She seemed cautious to tell. "Belle," the woman admitted, and he tested these words on his tongue. She laughed softly, however she didn't melt or sigh or grin wildly like many others. She was special. He looked over her shoulder for a short moment and saw that his father was staring him down like a hawk, watching his expression. Lovino straightened himself, nodded to her, and told her that he'd look forward to dancing with her. He would. She followed his eyes and looked back shortly, smiling to him and being quickly replaced by another maiden, one not so fair on these eyes in Lovino's opinion, but suitable. Average.
Only four other girls caught his attention, those of which were attractive or witty enough to leave a lasting impression. He would refuse to say he enjoyed their presence, however short it may have been. His father asked him once he was done kissing every hand if he would like to begin dancing, then. Lovino's eyes widened, thinking this would truly be the end of him and that if he had to see some of the maiden's faces again he would truly expire.
"Must I?" He groaned, looking to the wide, long clock behind his father and seeing the night was still very young. "Father, may I ask for the possibility to be excused for a short while? I need the washroom." Lovino asked kindly. His father obliged, whispering under his breath to take the time he needed. His arm was stopped again, however. "Yes?"
"Which ones are you interested in?" The king asked with a proud smile clear on his face. He had seen his interest in a few spare maidens. "The one from across the ocean?"
"Belle," he told him immediately, looking back into the room. "There was also a spare few… Katyusha, and perhaps Lili, if she were older… Father, please, I need to go,"
"You like a blond, I'll do well to remember that." He laughed, and embraced his anxious son in his arms and kissed his cheeks. "I am very proud of the man you've become. You're to be a great king, I'm sure of it."
Lovino paused, feeling his skin shift under his clothes and prickle like little needles. His neck broke into a cold sweat. The horse was prepared in the stable with his bags, his small white dove he often spent time with in the summer days, and enough books to fill his time. He had planned to rise a revolution in the kingdom so he wouldn't have to marry, so that he would be the true king and overthrow his father and mother. He was distraught, yet the plans were still in place and he had never expected so much tenderness out of his father. Or to meet a fair collection of ladies he would actually enjoy spending some time with. Lovino's heart sank to his gut and drummed there, threatening to vomit his birthday supper. "Thank you, father," he whispered, his eyes threatening to cast tears if he wasn't careful. "I love you."
"I love you, too, my son." He told him, and planted one more kiss to his forehead, as he had when Lovino was but three feet high. "Go, then."
Lovino swallowed the bile rising in his throat and with a shaken gasp of breath, nodded, and quickly turned to gather his horse and head west to begin his revolution.
After being kicked out of the room and having to escort the man's steed to the stables, Antonio went to his own bed, one quite the opposite of his guests'. It was crafted from hay and wood from the forest, created very skillfully with a large tarp to cover the hay and two very thick, once soft blankets that were as billowy as the hay below him. He tucked himself tightly in to warm himself up again and slept for however many hours it was until his father came in to wake him.
They ate breakfast early so they could then make the morning meals for the guests who wanted it and the civilians who came in to treat themselves, which was a scare thing these days. Antonio pondered last night's events as he held back a cough. The porridge this morning was hot and he was taking his time eating it. His father looked up from his accounting books and looked his son directly in the eye. "Please don't tell me you're getting sick, too, Antonio." He murmured, his voice trying to be scolding but concerned instead. "Your mother kept me up all last night; I can't lose you, too." He meant for the work, but Antonio regretted to think that since his mother's condition was worsening, that they would have one less mouth to feed by the end of the month. He shook that thought quickly. "What's the matter?"
Antonio looked up from the cracked table and smiled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing, pa, 'm sorry," he whispered, coughing anyway. He caught a little cold from the rain, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "A man, a noble of a sort took the rich room last night. He came in cloaked and didn't know how to spend his money." He explained, and his father opened the box on the table they kept the money in and plucked out the two gold pieces, as if questioning him. "Yes, those are what he paid with. He plans to stay as long as he wishes…" Antonio mumbled, and his father nodded.
"See to him, then. I'll work the kitchen today." He said after a moment, and Antonio nodded, rubbing his bleary eyes and taking a sip from the hot tea in his glass. Work would begin shortly. Very shortly. He scooped as much porridge he could into his mouth without burning and choking himself and saw to the dishes as soon as possible. He dressed in his usual set of clothes, a drawstring shirt and some shin-length brown durable trousers, ones that he wore with tall stockings in the winter, but for now, just hidden by his shoes that had lasted him a couple of years and were now hurting his feet to wear. It was getting colder and it still drizzled, so for good measure he wore a cloak and kept it on because the door to the inn was opening and closing frequently. There was an off chance someone would stand in the open doorway, letting all the heat out, just so they could speak to someone inside. Antonio was doing a lot of the hard work, the laundry, the maintenance, the desk, the bar if his father wasn't present. He would be stationed near his mother in case she needed assistance with something. She was very poorly, so he didn't complain.
Work had begun. He had taken fresh sheets from a cupboard and went to the room the large, sturdy man had inhabited last night and knocked twice, then again, and opened the door to see the bag of change, a tip, left on the nightstand. He pocketed the money and replaced the sheets easily enough, grimacing at the odor that clung to the dirty ones. His richer guest nearly ran into him in the hallway, coming down the stairs and shut in his own thoughts. Antonio gasped in surprise and it brought the man back to attention. He looked poorly, too. "Good morning," he greeted half-heartedly, his smile forced. "Did you rest well?"
The man nodded quickly, drew his hood over his face and left the inn to the town. Antonio sincerely hoped he didn't try to spend all his money somewhere else, because people weren't as kind and cautious to being pegged as thieves as his family and their inn were.
