Chapter 10: Radiance
Author's Note: I have been thinking a lot, contemplating on this story and I begin to understand more and more of it. My writing has improved powerfully, modesty in place. If any of you would have read my earlier writings, they would be rather mediocre than my current one. And from the reviews I am getting, I begin to feel...inadequate. I am saying this as not as a sign of disrespect and gratitude to anyone's review, but the only person who probably understood what I need in a criticism was the author Tonga. Judging from Tonga's review, it would seem that my story is less than what it was. She (Tonga, if you are reading this than please know that I characterize you as a woman for your name, and if I am wrong, please know that I am fully and humbly sorry for the misconception.) has shown me what there is still to be explored, to nurture in a story. My fanfiction is like a cave that is unknown and you, my dear readers, are the people who curiously investigate it. If I was a godlike being, then I would have failed to make the 'cave' more deep and treacherous and thrilling. Tonga has shown me that what I do now, how I write my story is still not enough, that I still have more to learn. As much as it hurts my pride and ego, I must admit that I believe myself to be an inferior author. I never had training, never practiced before starting and I am as impulsive as an enraged bull. When I get an idea, I quickly write it down, not even bothering to finalize small parts of it, like how it's going to end or what would the climax be or where would it lead to. But, for letting me see the bigger picture, I thank Tonga for that. For her sincere honesty, insightful criticism and her passion for writing. Though I may not know her, I can judge from the way she wrote her review that she would and will always bring justice to any story whatsoever. Brava, cara amica! I will try my best to bring the outstanding greatness of this story that is "The Child of the Dark Morn".
Roy regarded the spiraling Observatory with the maximum attention. Bedazzling shards of sunlight streamed through the statue that stood on top of the sky-high structure, setting off blasts of blinding radiance. The light seemed to glorify the great heavens as it raced across all space, all time in a blink of an eye. Roy was always amazed at how light seemed to appear in less than a second, less than the necessary quantity of space and time to take even the infinitesimal amount of breath. The light seemed to bifurcate even the most arduous of matter. For in one wink of human movement, the Observatory bore a resemblance of a cleaved monster. Even the beige paint gave the impression of searing white luminosity. It seared everything, unrepressed and unrestrained; violent and radiating.
Roy covered his eyes with his arm as he tried to make out the balcony of the tall tower. Despite the fact that the sun's glare would sizzle his eyes blind, Roy could make out the trailing edges of crimson draperies, as long as a pillar and as thin as a paper. Through the bloodred curtains, Roy saw what seemed to be two people inside the Observatory. He could only discern silhouettes, shadow figures of his unreliable vision. What with the fierce rays of the sun, it was hard to distinguish the colors and the reality of all his surroundings.
Sighing tiredly, he ducked his head and crossed the Il Passeto. Connecting the unreachable Observatory to the palace was a massive stone bridge, aligned at a 45 degree angle. Its stone blocks were carved equally in a thirty by twenty measurements, making it more shorter than what it may appear to be. On the top of the walls of the bridge were several statues of many of the most famous personifications and manifestations of the most common and the most complex theories and ideas of human history. One statue was Lady War, an exquisite form of art comprising of a woman with the regalia of ancient queens and bearing a sword of great length and of great splendor. To the side, parallel to Lady War, was the ever-mischievous devil Loki of the great Norse mythology. Clad in robes and bearing the prominent hair style of Norse culture long past, Loki was as childish in form as in legend. A great farther away was the mistress of life and death, the judge of all; Time herself. Bearing the Clock of Ages on her curved arm and her fathomless eyes staring ahead with no direction, with no stress of the amount of the period. She did not bear any weapons; she didn't need it. Time would ravage all enemies, no matter how powerful, how civilized, how grand. Castles would turn to dust, planets into minuscule stones and Time will still stand, waiting for the End that will never come. Past the intimidating sculpture was the exemplification of bane of reality, the One who is feared above all else, the Nameless Creature of which none could exterminate. Even Time bows to the limitless longevity of Death's existence. The Nameless Creature was garbed in a long robe that was frozen still in mute art, forever stilled in mid sway as stone was turned into a toy of forever. One on of the Creature's hand was the memento mori of all the living, the reminder of life's fragility. A skull, dark and horrific, stood on his hand like a grinning witness to the world's ephemeral actuality.
Shivering at the morbid sight, Roy set his mouth into a grim line and rapidly strolled into the Observatory's vestibule. To Roy, it always felt like walking from a forested scene and into a prodigal chamber. Sofas, red and soft, were set against ornamented walls. Several tables, some big, others small enough for one person, were scattered in a pattern meant as a path. Shelves full of books were everywhere, on the tables, along the sofas and even by a windowsill. A great orb, hanging from a chain attached to the fervently crafted ceiling was set in the center of the room. Upon it was geometrical shapes of lands, wind currents and names of cities. It was a large globe of the world. Stacks upon stacks of papers, journals and entries stood on many of the available tables, hiding the splendid red and black tablecloth that was made from England.
Roy saw the stairway amongst the jumble of things. All business, Roy walked past the mess and climbed the stairs as he ascended the Observatory's inner workings.
"Interesting." Riza looked up from her sweeping as the Grand Duchess came to sit by her atop the large silk pillow. The Grand Duchess was staring through the tall windows on the Il Passeto. Riza looked at the lady and back to the Il Passeto.
"What is interesting, Your Grand Ducal Highness?" Riza asked. The Grand Duchess was silent before she turned to Riza. Even at the age of a bit over forty-nine, the Grand Duchess was still beautiful. Her maroon hair was combed back and was held by her coronet of office, which consisted of jewels in dark hues; from bloodred to crystal blue and to opaque whites. The jewels were the sizes of pebbles and were clustered in brilliant arrays. When the sunlight reflected in the jewels' shine, it created a kaleidoscope of astonishing colors. It looked as if a rainbow, an aurora had surged inside the room and bathed it with its pleasing glow. The multicolored light seemed to make the Grand Duchess more divine, more celestial.
Riza watched the green eyes of the Grand Duchess turn distant and vague. Riza, from her first day of being courtier to the Grand Duchess, had quickly observed and familiarized herself with the lady's moods. When her eyes were clear green, like the emeralds she wore on her dress, the lady seemed happy and friendly. But, when those kind eyes turned into violent viridian slits, Riza knew that the Grand Duchess was beyond ireful. But those moments were rare and hardly ever came to be. The Grand Duchess held a calming presence. She had always been in control of her emotions. Riza had never seen the Grand Duchess act like an impulsive being. She always reasoned logically. That was something that Riza admired; something she wished she could gain one day.
The Grand Duchess' voice broke Riza out of her deep reverie. "Roy had never entered the Observatory alone."
Riza was the one to turn silent and unreadable now. The Grand Duchess had mentioned her son, the Duke of Florence. The man who Riza found out was the one responsible of giving her the will to live. It had been at first unclear and disorienting, as Riza had been waking from her sleep. It was there that she saw the Duke's handsome face, asleep, against the wall. He had his arms enclosed around her and Riza embarrassingly noticed that she was laying on his chest. It took Riza several moments to find help and get the Duke to his bed. And when the Duke had woke to find himself in his own room, in his own bed, Riza had to solemnly explain as to how he got there.
When she was done explaining, the Duke watched her for a while before gently cupping her cheek and tenderly pressed a soft kiss. Riza had been so ill-prepared that she inadvertently pushed the Duke away. In her humiliation, she fell to her knees and besought his forgiveness for her stupidity. Riza had awaited her punishment, but none came. Only a placid hand on her shoulder and the Duke asking her to get off the floor. Where she believed him to be those cold snubs, he was a kind man. When she thought him as someone who would abuse her, he became her saviour. She had convinced herself that no one would even care about her that she was unable to let the Duke in. She walled him off so badly that it was like threatening him with a knife. In the end, the Duke continued to gaze kindly at her. It warmed her heart and brought a little light into the dark wasteland of her soul. He was a tall and strong pillar in a great flood; a stalwart tree in a scorching desert. He treated her kindheartedly. The Duke didn't view her as someone below his status, he saw her as someone equal. It gave her work a meaning, something that had never happened.
"Why?" Riza asked the Grand Duchess as she halted from her staring and straightened the folds of her dark aubergine dress. Riza awaited the lady's answer as she brushed the dust off many porcelain vases and small treasures. Riza noticed that some of the decorations were old and ancient; others were new and gilded. She put down the dust cloth as she folded one of the satin blankets.
"Because he always brought Alexander with him. The dog never left the boy's side. Even when they were little." A small smile came to the Grand Duchess' lips as she continued to silently reminisce on the past. Riza smiled at the filial love of the family and continued to fold the other blankets. Suddenly, the Grand Duchess turned her head, as regal as any ruler, and had a commanding streak in her eyes hidden beneath pleased indulgence.
"Why don't you accompany my son, Elizabeth? After all, he could get lonely." The Grand Duchess' tone did not even bother to hide the order it conveyed. Riza knew that any argument would end with the Grand Duchess having her way. She was a clever and smart woman who knew how to turn the tables on practically anyone. Restraining a sigh, Riza curtsied before turning back and walking out of the Grand Duchess' room. As she passed the antechamber, Riza's head swiveled from side to side as she admired the many frescoes and paintings. There was one that captured Riza's interest. It consisted of a woman, wearing a yellow dress with many frills and had a big, lacy collar and held a sword as she pointed it down on the earth underneath her feet. Behind her were majestic creatures with wings and circular beams of light. Riza didn't know what they were because no one bothered to tell her. Only the Duke told her that when she quietly asked him the night he entered her room and almost met death. He had not ridiculed her, as per expected. Instead, he slowly explained the concept of divinity and the angels.
Riza had a lot to thank the Duke for: knowledge, the food and returning to her the will to stand from the dismal condemnation she had been forced to swim in. There were so many things she desired, so many things she wanted to have but was denied. Dreams long dead, desires that had withered, bloomed into vivacious fountains the moment the Duke entered her life. Riza craved for the most exalted of all pleasures. She wanted to be free to live her own life. She had never wanted so much for something. Few knew the great thrill she had once felt when Signor Gracia gave her a blanket. Others would have grimaced at the sight. But not Riza. She had never been given anything. She had accepted the blanket in a manner that spoke of her gratitude.
Riza picked up her skirt as she hurried down the stairway. While descending, Riza saw Leonora, another of the Grand Duchess' ladies-in-waiting. Of all the Grand Duchess' courtiers, Leonora was the most beautiful, most attractive. She had scarlet hair, tumbling down her red corset and green eyes that were brilliant stones luminous. Her dress perfected her curvaceous body, a body that would make any man swoon with lust. But, of all ladies-in-waiting, she was the most proud, the most unkind. When Matilda had Riza introduced to the other ladies-in-waiting, she was the one who looked down on her. She insulted her, humiliated her with her imperfections and criticized about her illiteracy. It was a stunning blow to her low self-esteem. Even Matilda was horrified of the words of Leonora.
"Ah, Elizabeth!" Riza knew that Leonora evaded using her nickname. She did not want to associate herself with a domestic. "Off to see the Duke? Had the most exquisite and jovial night with him? It must have been a very honourable moment for someone like you, a whore!" Leonora's words were dark and cruel and tainted with the poison of hate. Even though Riza reminded herself that it was just words and not physical violence, she still couldn't stop the blanching of her face. She had been called a lot of foul names, several discriminating titles but Riza prided herself in being able to stand from those moments. But, no one had called her a whore. The whore was disgusting and sordid that Riza was shocked to be the target of the word. On top of that, she was called a whore for spending a "night" with the Duke. In all honesty, Riza wanted to scream at her. She wanted to shout at her that she was not a whore and that "night" was not filled with sexual indulgence, but a motivating catharsis of her will to live. But she knew that Leonora would not believe her. Better yet she not give the woman any satisfaction by showing that she had hit a sore spot inside Riza. There was a reason why she had a coldness within her.
"If you want to know, why don't you bed him? In any case, you should not use those words to describe me, when..." Riza paused and wrapped the woman in a frozen stare that would have made anyone run in terror. Finally, when the silence was becoming more tense, Riza smirked and said in a frigid voice. "In all reality, you were just describing yourself."
The look on Leonora's face was murder intent. Her smug smile was gone and was replaced by a deadly grimace. When Leonora took a step forward, her fists closed and trembling and her face, a mask of total hate, Riza stood her ground. She was absolutely sure that the woman did not know anything about physical violence. Leonora grew up in a doting surrounding, Riza grew up in a horrible hellhole. Riza had her fair share of hits and that showed how much mettle was inside her.
At last, Leonora was a hand away from her. She was all vengeance and homicide in one. When she opened her mouth to spit out another retort, another insult at her, Riza spoke before the woman could make any sound. "Why so angry? Afraid that the Duke didn't want someone like you? Shame. You could be someone after being with him. Ah!," Riza made a mocking sound as if she realized a very smart idea. "you could even bear his bastard child!"
That was the last straw for Leonora. Riza could see the burning humiliation in her eyes. Realizing that, Riza felt cruel pleasure. It was about time that someone else felt the cold sting of being degraded. Now, this harlot could see the hellish life that Riza had lived in for twenty-seven years. When the woman raised her fist, poised to deliver Riza to death's embrace in an implacable strike, Riza straightened her shoulders, ready to retaliate her attack.
Leonora struck down with ferocious strength, Riza countered by grabbing the woman's arms and twisting it around. A scream was cut short as Riza unleashed a shattering punch to the woman's stomach. Leonora gasped. Riza backhanded her, her face showing nothing but harsh determination. Leonora tumbled down the steps, the flowing beads of her dress flailing, but managed to get a hold of the banister. She was breathing fast and Riza could hear the woman's labored self. Leonora struggled to stand up and face Riza. Without ceremony, Riza gripped the woman's long red hair and pulled it down so hard that Leonora was crying to be free while standing in an awkward position. Riza let out a dazzling slap to the woman's face. She let go of her hair and, instead, seized her neck and made Leonora stare into her eyes.
Riza had never been the villain. No, even the men who once tried to have their way with her had never been this abused. But, this was different. Rape, she could live with. It was humiliation and being degraded that was unbearable. Once she had started, Riza released all her anger, her rage at the unfairness of her whole being. She couldn't let people trample on her anymore. Not when those kind of people were the lowest of all kinds of human. They do not deserve the luxury of aristocratic life; they deserved the potholes of Hell.
Riza stared into the green eyes of the once proud woman. Now, those condemning viridian eyes were now filled with untold horror and fear. No anger, no hate, no trace of superiority was present in those eyes. Riza always reasoned out that most people now needed some kind of flogging to see their own stupidity. Justice demanded that these kinds of human beings see their own limitations and their own mortality. After all, they are just humans. Not even an emperor can stand against the powers of Time and Death. Staring back to those green eyes, Riza fixed them in an ethereal connection that bespoke the magnitude of the situation. She erased all compassion, all sympathy she had in her from her face. Riza brought up the unfeeling, indifferent and remote face she often used to ward off the hurtful words of unsympathetic men.
"Be advised, Leonora. You may be better than me at most things, but, as easy as a push..." Leonora's face reddened before turning into alabaster white. All blood drained from her face as she was caught in Riza's hostile stare.
"...I can kill you." Riza's voice had a dreadful finality to it. It almost sounded an absolute order. If Leonora had been pale before, she looked dead right now. Riza let go of Leonora's neck and watched as the woman scurried down the steps and ran towards the exits.
The silence was deafeningly tense. Riza stood straight and stiff, her eyes stared vacantly where Leonora had been, her hand still outstretched. When it was too much to take, Riza fell down on the step and put her head in her hands. With mighty effort, she struggled to not scream in triumph. All her life, Riza had been oppressed. She had been dominated by people with more power, more strength than her. She was forced to do their bidding without the emancipation of complaint. Being able to stand for herself, Riza felt like shouting in joy and crying in liberation. When all thoughts jumbled, Riza's mind locked on the Duke. Understanding flooded into her like an inundation of fire. Because of the Duke's caring heart, she had been given back the strength to not only stand from the pain, but stand for her rights as a human being. The Duke was a saviour. Riza had one more thing she would thank him about.
Rising from her comfort, Riza fled the stairs and made her way towards the Observatory. On the way, she absently remarked how everything seemed a little brighter.
Roy watched the beautiful blonde ascend the Observatory with unparalleled grace and elegance. Dreamily, Roy did not notice the smile he was wearing when he saw Elizabeth. She was so lovely, so gorgeous, so pure. From the moment Roy woke to find himself in his bed, by effort of the blonde now coming up, he almost thought of her more and more. And those thoughts tended to run into embarrassing places. When he had gone to a meeting about the preliminary supervision on the construction of base defenses in Tuscany, Roy almost embarrassed himself. He never listened to the other supporters on their thoughts of the plan. All he thought was Elizabeth.
Pushing the door open, Roy stepped out of the chamber and into the hall outside. Dark caramel walls met his eyes; the smell of ancient paper invading his nostrils. The steady sound of creaking wood erupted within the silence as Roy's booted foot came down the first step of the tall, winding staircase. He gripped the velvety rail on the side and patiently awaited Elizabeth's arrival. The quiet echoes of footsteps marked the advent of Elizabeth. While Roy awaited for her, his thoughts dwelled to a certain message he received a while ago, before he came up the Observatory.
His best friend, Maes Hughes, was coming.
The letter said that his British friend was aboard the Miracle, on its way to Italy. It had been several years since he had last seen Maes. He could clearly educe the man's dark hair, the stubbly cheeks and the ever-present glasses that covered very observant gold eyes. Maes had written that he would be in the city by late afternoon. Even though Roy got the letter around nine o'clock in the morning, he was already jumping around and preparing things for his best friend.
His thoughts halted as he saw Elizabeth, in a gorgeous azure dress. Her long blonde hair was left to rain down her body, enveloping her face in a gold embrace. A perfect smile curved her lips, and danced in her eyes. The sight was rejuvenescing. The latest Roy had ever seen on Elizabeth was a defeated soldier. Now, all he could see was a proud knight, undefeated and dignified. Elizabeth lifted his spirits and absently brought out the joy in him. Now, he was grinning like an idiot.
"Your Grace." Her curtsy was more meaningful, more heartfelt. It had an honourably truthful feel to it. Still smiling, Roy bowed to her. "My lady."
Riza looked up with her caramel eyes. "The Grand Duchess wished for me to accompany you. She said that you never went inside the Observatoy alone, Your Grace." Roy smiled at his mother's ever doting influence. She even managed to get Elizabeth to accompany him. Although Elizabeth never stated it, Roy knew that she was no social person. She barely talked to anyone; less even cared about their thoughts and jobs.
"Yes, that is true. It has been quite empty in the Observatory as of late." Roy said, gesturing to the viewing chamber. Elizabeth looked around, taking everything in. Roy watched as she observed the old tower, silently admiring her beauty. She had a way about things. When she was interested in something, her eyes seemed to light up and a small smile appeared in her lips. He saw that when her gaze fell on the music box that stood on the table next to the entrance to the chamber. It was a slightly old music box, plain white with gold linings. A carefully crafted bird, with its wings open as if withstanding the force of a mountain, sat on its cover. When Roy turned his head to watch Elizabeth, a wistful longing appeared in her eyes. But, as quickly as it came, it went. Roy was saddened to see the vacant reappraisal of everything.
"Elizabeth, come with me." When her eyebrows bunched together in a confused frown, Roy looked back to the chamber. "Watch the world with me." He silently asked. He held his hand out, awaiting her reply. Elizabeth curtseyed again. "Yes, Your Grace."
Slowly, she laid her hand on his. Roy was amazed by such tenderness, such fluid grace. Roy was amazed by everything about her. Every aspect of her self was a new treasure to him; a new view of something remarkable. That was the reason why he was so crushed when she believed herself to be nothing but dust in the eyes of many. She didn't see the admiration in his eyes. She had wholly convinced herself that she was a nobody. Roy was determined to wake her to the world. Not wanting to hurt her, Roy pulled her slowly towards the chamber. He let her observe the grand architecture of the room; the timeless foundation of antiquity. Roy smiled at her fascination at a bronze abacus, its stones made of pearls. Even Roy laughed silently, fearing she would take it wrongly and feel humiliated, when Elizabeth rolled the wheel of a spinning wheel and smiled at the thread's synchronization. She was a woman who liked the smallest of things; she wasn't like other people. She was content to be able to experience the pleasures of life.
When Roy led her to the gargantuan balcony, Elizabeth's smile was pure bliss. Roy could distinguish the adoration in her eyes at the sea of green and the many hills surrounding the city. There were so many things she missed to see, so many scenes she had suppressed to satisfy a community who doesn't see her. Roy badly wanted to take the world and give it to her. She was too sad, too broken, too damaged. She was not still able to hold the pieces together. She was still finding them.
Roy had never felt such devotion, such admiration for someone. Elizabeth had changed his life. In the past, he would have ravaged her like every other courtesan in the city. But, when he had met her, Elizabeth brought the sadness of his solitude out of him. He gave his attention to her, of his own freewill. No one asked him to care for her. He just did it because he valued her. She was something more. There was no greater thing, no precious standard than caring for her. She unlocked the coldness of his heart and made him feel the very compassion that she mightily desired. Her dead wishes made him want to fulfill them; her rejected desires he wanted to give.
Roy recalled the music box she liked. He turned to look at her and his breathing almost stopped. Golden hair swam in the air, curling around them like possessive vines. Delicate fingers locked with his, entwined in the scenic view. Caramel eyes gazed unblinkingly at the memorable sight. The pleasant symphony of the birds and the soft breeze of the wind tangled them in an oblivious moment where time stopped and everything was at peace. There were no fights, no sadness, no destruction. Everything was just...peaceful. Unknowingly, Roy's free hand went up to touch her cheek. His fingers trailed as Elizabeth turned to look at him. Her eyes were now full of life and joy. Any trace of sadness was erased in the face of such beauteous grandeur.
"Stay here for a while. I'll be back." He didn't want to break the spell of the place. But when Elizabeth nodded, Roy knew that when he returned, the spell would still hold.
Riza watched the Duke return from where he had gone. His hands were behind his back and his face was unreadable. In some peculiar way, the look was unsettling. It gave her pause to not know anything by just his face. Riza had always prided herself in being observant and in being able to discern people's thoughts by just looking at their faces. But that skill was useless with the Duke. He had a way of making things very obscure and unclear, almost to the point of the unknown. Putting her guard up, Riza smiled at the Duke politely.
"Your Grace." Riza greeted formally. She silently studied the Duke as he came closer and stood next to her, gazing at the forest green mountains. His dark blue garb fitted perfectly against the background, along with a gold cravat and white vest. The cold breeze ruffled his black hair, short and aristocratic. When the Duke brought a hand from his back and held her other hand up, Riza could see a bit of hesitation in his face, as his eyes were to the ground. The fact that the Duke hesitated made Riza's alarm elevate. From all the time she had known him, Riza knew that the Duke never hesitated.
When he spoke, his voice cracked a bit and Riza saw him gulp."Elizabeth, I know that I have no right to your life, to your decision. But, I want to be more than a stranger to you." When Riza waited for his answer, the Duke finally looked into her eyes. In there, she could see determination, finality, and hope.
"I want to be your friend." His voice carried the strength of his eyes, of his spirit. Riza, still staring at him, came closer and smiled wistfully at him. "You already are, Your Grace."
"That's not who I want to be."
Riza's eyes widened. His words were confusing; everything about him was confusing. He was an enigma, an unfathomable being. Maybe that was the reason why she felt this attraction to him? Because he was a mystery, a puzzle still unsolved. "Your Grace?"
When the Duke looked up, Riza saw a ravaging pain in them. It was a slow torture, a painful agony. It was dreadful, horrible, frightening. Luckily, Riza managed to turn her face to its mask. "That's not who I want to be, Elizabeth."
"Then who do you want to be?" Her words were cold and final. Riza knew that it was disrespect to use that kind of tone in addressing someone of more authority. But Riza couldn't control herself. The Duke had led her into circles and rooms, just to find out that he was as confused as herself. It was maddeningly sad, tormentingly infuriating. She felt used. She felt like a mannequin being manipulated by a masked person. It made her feel stupid and again, useless. She didn't want to get her hopes dashed away. Not now, not when she finally allowed some trust into this man before her. She didn't want to regret her decision.
"I just want to be Roy. I just want to be that person to you. Not the Duke, not the son of the Grand Duke. I just want to be your friend, Elizabeth. Please, let me be your real friend. Don't close yourself to me. I'm asking you. Please." The Duk--no, Roy's voice was despondently pleading. No one had ever wanted to be her friend. People mocked her, scorned her and made her an outcast. Yet, begging softly and sincerely was this man, who was more powerful, more significant, more important than her, who wanted to be her friend. The thought of finally having a friend, a true friend, suddenly made tears rush into her eyes.
"Whatever you want me to do, say it and it shall be done." Riza pronounced tearfully to the man. His eyes were joyfully blissful. There was no amount of sadness in his eyes, in his smile. They were the sublime essence of rapture. And when he took his other hand from behind his back, Riza's knees suddenly felt weak.
Standing there, in his palm, was the music box that she so liked, so wished for. It was the exact thing, the same length of the cover, the same thickness of the gold covering. The bird was exactly real. It was the music box that she saw on the table outside the room. Numb with amazement, Riza could only gape.
"I want you to have this. As a sign of our friendship, as a sign that I am Roy to you, and that you are Elizabeth to me." Black eyes twinkled with merriment and paramount promise. The golden sunlight that showered them with its bathing glow warmed the scene. The way the nearby river splashed against the grounds, the birds chirping their symphony, the ruffling of tree branches and the pleasing light gave the assurance of a better day. It gave her peace and warmth, things that she had always thought she could never have. And here was Roy, standing in it, giving all of it to her, asking nothing in return. His selflessness made the world seem such a welcoming place.
"I do not want to be Elizabeth, the maid, Roy. I want to be Riza, your friend. And you are Roy to me, the first person to befriend me when in all honesty, you should have hated. I was an outcast, a person that people hated. You should have hated me, loathed me, left me. But you didn't. You stayed and made the monsters in my life go away. You gave me what I thought was unreachable. Roy, you gave me hope. Hope for a better future, a better life. You showed me that not everything in this life is bad, is horrible, that there are also good things to value. It is you, Roy. You are one of the good things that has happened in my life. You really are a friend." Tenderly taking the music box from his hand, Riza laid it on the flat, stone railing. Carefully, Riza removed the latch and opened the cover.
It was exquisite, beautiful, magnificent. Riza could come up with a myriad of things to appreciate about the music coming from the box. But, in all honesty, Riza could only say that it was as similar as to what Roy had given her. The soft piano ballad gave the reality of security. It promised her the rosy dawn, the new day. It banished the dark night in her mind and it gave birth to the light of peace. The fluid sound beggars description. Unparalleled and soft, the music lifted the spirits of the place. The light grew brighter, the birds more lively. Even the river seemed to rage with playful verve. When Riza gazed at Roy appreciatively, all her words, her feelings were seen in her gaze.
Roy held out his hand, beckoning her to a world of protection, of assurance. Riza gladly took it, using the other to take the box off the railing. Right now, these two things, Roy and the music box, were the most precious in the world. When Roy laughed gaily, Riza giggly asked. "What?"
Roy's laugh stopped and his eyes held a heartfelt tenderness within them. It riveted in his eyes, flooding them with its glory. Riza basked in that tenderness.
"I'll introduce you to my best friend. Come on, he'll be here soon. You're going to like him!" Roy confidently said. Riza playfully responded. "And what if I don't?"
"Then I'll make you." Roy answered, his eyes shimmering with mischief.
"First, promise me one thing."
"What is that, Riza?" Roy asked, fondly using her nickname.
"That the next time you come here, bring Alexander with you." Riza almost laughed at the horrified expression in his face.
"The dog would kill me!"
"Exactly."
Author's Note: Dear readers, I am sorry that it took a long time for this chapter to be posted. Our school is holding its annual Cheering Competition and this week had been very hectic. Practices were held almost everyday and most of the time I have has been used up. I could only write a few sentences before I return to our practice. So, please accept my apology, which is that I made this chapter longer...and fluffier...which is gross, in a way. And, I never meant for Riza to be so...villain like. It was just because of the fact that she finally stood for herself, no matter how...crude.