Notes:
[f/n]= first name
I keep still as servants carefully sew the clothing on my body, fitting me like the day I first met Gilbert. But in comparison to last time, I'm the picture of tranquility. The boiling fury that had blistered inside of me cooled down to a calm acceptance. After meeting Gilbert, something changed. But it's so conflicting, as my head insists on fighting with my heart.
One of the servants, Amita, shuffles in front of me as she pins the clothing near my chest. Her dark skin contrasts against the light colored cloth she is working with, Amita being from India. She is actually my favorite servant, more of a friend really. She glances up at me, slipping me a smile before continuing her sewing. "You look different, [f/n]. Radiant," she tells me.
I stare at her in surprise, but my cheeks lightly get warmer at the compliment. "What do you mean?" I mumble shyly. "I don't think I look any different."
"You're face is softer, more gentle. I know that look, [f/n]," she declares, her needle not stopping its flow of stitching.
"What would that look be?" I ask, curious.
"You're in love," she says, stopping for a moment to look at me with a knowing smile before continuing her stitching.
My face's temperature rapidly increases. "No I'm not!" I cry quickly, a little too quickly.
Amita laughs at my embarrassment. "Oh, really now?" she says, the laugh evident in her voice. "Today you were practically skipping into the dressing room, humming a little tune while you were at it. And it just so happens to be the day you get to go see Prince Gilbert again."
I turn my head away from Amita so she can't see my face. Of course, that doesn't do much. Stupid Amita for knowing me so well! "I don't love him," I insist unconvincingly.
"Sure, honey, whatever you say," Amita says, obviously knowing better. She steps away from me, admiring her work. "Well, regardless, I'm sure Prince Gilbert will find you very attractive today."
I don't reply, instead turning to a mirror to see how I look. I'm surprised by what I see. Amita is right, I do look softer. The delicate light colored cloth compliments my skin, my cheeks rosy from blushing. My eyes seem to sparkle and radiate warmth. Before I can think, I blurt out, "This is me?"
"No, it's your twin you're looking at," Amita jokes. "Now hurry along, [f/n]. These clothes took longer than expected, and you don't want to keep Prince Gilbert waiting."
"Thank you, Amita," I say with a warm smile before rushing out the door.
"Knock him dead!" Amita calls after me, managing to make me laugh. This time, Mother and Father are waiting for me at the carriage.
Mother gasps lightly at me as I try to catch my breath. "How is it," Mother begins wonderingly, "that Amita can manage to use simple materials and make you look more stunning than last time." Unlike last time, I'm adorned with very few jewels. I don't like having so much jewelry on, and Amita knew that. She also knew that I like lighter material that is easy to move in, so she refused to use the heavy, expensive material Mother had provided her with. But I don't think it's the clothing that makes me look better, I think it's the inner glow I can't help but radiate.
"You do look rather stunning today, [f/n]," Father compliments me.
"Thank you, Father, Mother," I tell them as I slip into the carriage.
"Don't mention it, dear," Mother replies. She turns her attention to the driver. "Now driver, we are in a hurry today. I would appreciate it if you would make haste." The driver obliges, and soon we are hurrying down the cobbled streets. I also don't talk much on this trip, but not because I'm upset. This time, I'm lost in thought about what I should expect with Gilbert. What if last time was a fluke? What if this time, I find him to be too unbearable after all? Irregardless, most of my thoughts are on how I'm looking forward to seeing him.
When we reach the castle, a little bit of excitement bursts in my stomach. I follow Mother and Father as we make our way to the throne room. I see Gilbert's white hair from afar, and he too spots me, but he is too far away for me to make out his expression. Shyness suddenly takes hold of me, and I find myself gazing intently at the ground. But when we finally stop in front of the thrones, I have no choice but to look up and meet his gaze.
The sight of him makes me laugh. He is wearing an uncomfortable expression, and for good reason. The last time, while still looking like royalty, his choice of dress was rather casual. But now, he is wearing overly fancy clothing, which looks tight and stuffy. At my laughter, Gilbert glowers at me, which only makes me laugh more. After I've had enough laughter, I smirk up at Gilbert's face, which is bright red like his eyes. "You look...nice," I say with a suppressed snicker. "I like the frills."
"Oh shut up!" Gilbert snaps, and is proceeded with a slap to the head by the King.
"Manners!" the King snaps back.
"It's fine!" I tell the King with an amused smile. "I do hope you don't find this rude of me to ask, but would it be ok if Prince Gilbert had a change of clothing? He looks rather uncomfortable, and I want him to have a good time today."
The King eyes Gilbert, who is rubbing his head in pain. "Well, if it is by your request, I'll permit it," the King grants me. Gilbert bolts up, ready to dash for the dressing room.
"Wait, Gilbert!" the Queen demands. She looks over to me, saying, "[f/n], why don't you go with Gilbert? He'll escort you to where you two shall dine. I hope you don't mind, but the King and I have matters to discuss with your parents, so you shall be dining with Prince Gilbert in a separate area."
A bit of concern bites into my cheerfulness. What matters are being discussed, and why am I not allowed to know about them? But I shake away my concern and reply to the Queen, "I don't mind. Besides, I should get to know Prince Gilbert on a one on one basis anyways."
"Good, now let's go!" Gilbert responds before the Queen has a chance to. To my surprise, he grabs my hand and drags me along with him. Before I know it, we're striding far away from both our parents.
"Hey, wait, Gilbert!" I cry, blushing madly. He is still holding my hand!
"What?" he asks.
"My hand," I mumble.
He glances down at our entwined fingers, like he forgot. He blushes slightly before flinging my hand away. "Sorry about that," he grumbles as he starts to stride faster, as if to get some distance between us.
I speed up until I'm striding at his pace, refusing to let him get too far ahead. We eventually reach the dressing room, which is void of servants. But Gilbert is not phased, and strides right in. I wait outside as he dresses himself, hoping he won't take too long. After a little while, quicker than what I expected, Gilbert steps out of the room. I glance at him, and find myself admiring him. He chose a plain black assemble, almost like peasant clothes, which makes his white hair stand out brilliantly. To me, he looks very handsome. "You look good," I admittedly tell him.
He looks me over, like this is the first time he saw me today. His red eyes deliberately travel across my body, leaving me feeling like he is stroking me with his gaze. I start to fidget shyly, and unable to take much more, I blurt out, "Quit looking at me like that!"
He turns his gaze to my eyes, smirking at my outburst. "Sorry, you just look really good yourself," he tells me, and I find myself no longer able to look him in the eye. Suddenly, a series of chirping causes me to look back at Gilbert curiously. "Ah, Gilbird!" Gilbert cries as the little bird flutters from his shirt towards me.
I reach out and catch Gilbird, bringing him to my chest. Cradling him, I look at Gilbert and ask, "Why do you always hide him in your shirt, anyways?"
He scowls at the question. "As royalty, it is considered 'improper' of me to carry around a 'filthy critter'. So I have to keep Gilbird out of sight. Everyone is just jealous of the awesomeness known as Gilbird."
"Well I for one find him adorable," I say affectionately as I stroke the soft feathers on Gilbird's head.
"I think he's a mood killer," Gilbert mutters to himself, unheard by me as I am busy cuddling Gilbird. He glares jealously at the bird, who seems to be making a point of pressing against my chest. Gilbert grabs my hand once again. "Come on, let's go eat," he tells me as he drags me with him.
"Ok, ok!" I cry. "My hand, Gilbert!" But he ignores what I said, and instead grips my hand tighter. I don't persist further, as my heart flutters at the warmth his hand spreads to mine. After hurriedly walking down numerous halls, we reach an entrance that leads outside.
"We're having a picnic dinner," Gilbert informs me as he leads me to a intricately embroidered quilt spread against the ground. I settle down on the soft cloth, glancing around me at the beautiful scenery. Delicately petaled flowers bloom around us, leaving a pleasurable scent lingering in the air. The sun shines brightly down on us as fluffy white clouds float above.
Giving Gilbert a bright smile, I tell him, "It's perfect weather for a picnic." I take notice of the covered silver platters placed on the quilt, likely concealing our dinner. As Gilbert settles down as well, I lift a lid on one of the dishes, revealing what almost looks like a pancake.
"That's kartoffelpuffer," Gilbert points out. "It's made of ground potatoes and onions."
I take one of the silver forks and cut up a piece, placing it in my mouth. "It's good!" I exclaim happily, and proceed to take more bites. I tear off a piece and hand it to Gilbird to peck on. Gilbert smiles at me, a genuine smile, before digging in himself.
After Gilbird finishes the piece I had given him, he flutters over to Gilbert. As Gilbert is about to take a bite of his own kartoffelpuffer, Gilbird jumps up and snatches the bite off of Gilbert's fork. "Hey!" Gilbert cries angrily as he dives at Gilbird, determined to snatch back his food. Unfortunately, he knocks over a bowl of gravy, which splatters over my legs.
Gilbert freezes up, staring at me in silent horror. I stay still for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Once the shock subsides, a thirst for revenge takes its place. Gilbert continues to stare at me in dreadful anticipation as I calmly pick up a spoon. I scoop up a an unidentifiable gushy substance from a bowl, then fling it at Gilbert. It splatters across his face, the sticky substance clinging to his skin. He swipes the gush off of his face to reveal a glare. "It's on," he declares, then swiftly grabs a handful of an oatmeal like substance and throws it at me. He acts so quickly that I'm unable to react fast enough, so the substance splatters against my face.
"You're going to pay for that!" I shout and rapidly fling whatever food is nearby at Gilbert. Poor Gilbird flutters around distressedly, trying to avoid being hit by the flying food. Time flies by as we continue to throw food at each other, both of us utterly coated in various foods. With no more food to throw, and a unwillingness to lose, Gilbert flings himself at me.
He pins me to the ground and victoriously shouts, "Ha! Victory is mine!" I glare at him as he laughs mockingly. He looks down to sneer at me, but freezes when our eyes meet. I swallow heavily as I realize how close his face is to mine. He just stares, stares, and stares. I become aware of the feel of his hands on my wrists and his legs tangled with mine. I just know I'm blushing, but I can't look away. Gilbert releases one of my wrists, murmuring, "You have something on your face." He swipes his finger across my lips, clearing them of the food that had been on them. I gasp at his touch, my gaze becoming heated as I unknowingly stare yearningly at him.
At my gaze, Gilbert's eyes cloud over with desire. He leans down, inching closer to me, and my eyes flutter closed in acceptance. His lips press softly against mine, as if testing the water, before they start moving hungirly. He nibbles my lower lip, asking for entrance, causing me to gasp once more. He takes the opportunity, and soon I feel his tongue swirling against mine. He tastes of various flavors, considering we have been splattered with various foods. Even so, his spicey flavor is actually quite pleasurable.
When we part for air, he leans his forehead against mine. "[f/n]," he breathes out. "I think I'm in love with you."
"I think I may love you, too," I say quietly.
"It's a good thing we are getting married, then," he replies, smirking adoringly at me.
"Well that may be good, it's going to be bad when we try to explain to them why we are coated in food," I tell him with a lightheaded laugh.
Gilbert buries his face in my neck. "We're doomed," he moans. Gilbird chirps cheerfully as he lands on Gilbert's head.
"Definitely," I agree, but the smile on my face refuses to go away.
While Gilbert and I are busy trying to clean our mess, unknowingly to us our parents are busy discussing dire matters. "I'm sorry, but we're canceling the engagement," Father tiredly sighs, stress etched on his face. "With this news you've brought me, I don't think we can afford to be involved."
"We could use your support," the King determinedly begs. "If we win this war, our kingdom will be expanded to more land."
"I have no desire to be at war with Germany!" Father firmly replies. "I think you are fighting a losing war, your Majesty, and I don't want [f/n] involved in it. Once again, I'm sorry for such circumstances, but the engagement is canceled, and we are taking our leave."
"I understand," the King says with restrained anger. "Then leave! But never again will you be welcome into my kingdom."
"That is unfortunate," Father says sadly.
"Father!" I call, entering the room.
"[f/n]!" Father exclaims. "What happened?"
"About that-," I start to say, but Father interrupts me.
"Never mind, explain it on the way home. We're leaving now."
"Oh," I say, confused. I glance at the King, who is tensed up. Did something happen? But the look on Father's face fends off all my questions. So instead, I glance at the King and politely ask, "Would you tell Prince Gilbert farewell for me?" He didn't want to face the King, so he had headed straight for the baths.
"That I shall," the King responds, and speaks no further. No farewells, nothing.
As we are heading back to the mansion, I cannot shake away the feeling that something bad is going to happen.
To Be Continued
