The needle pierced the blue cloth as Flora moved her hands delicately across the soft cloth over her lap. Her eyes were focused on the thread weaving in and out while she sat in the corner of the kitchen, listening as Helia read aloud from the small, blue book.
It had been the first night of their new routine of Flora working on Krystal's gown and any other chores while Helia read to her. She for the life of her couldn't imagine why the cold and distant prince would want to spend his time reading to her and then possibly teaching her how to read. He had no reason to teach her, and a prince should not be so nice to a servant. It was odd and was something that wasn't done. Flora thought that he would have forgotten all about her as she waited in the kitchen, but when he had shown up with the book in hand, she was more than pleasantly surprised.
"...there was a knock on the door and the sound of trumpets heralded the arrival of a message that would soon change the course of Cinderella's life. Cinderella opened the door to see a man of small stature on top of a horse, 'A message from His Majesty the King,' the small man announced as he handed Cinderella a letter. She took it in her hand and smiled at the small messenger before walking back into the manor, the letter in hand..."
Flora found herself becoming lost in Helia's deep voice as he read the story aloud. She would spare a few glances in his direction and observe the way that he held the book so carefully in front of him and how his eyes were focused on the words that he read. He looked as if he were reading the book for the first time but spoke as if he had known the story by heart. What was he thinking about?
Flora thought that she had figured out the prince. That he was some troubled and difficult man but when he had made the effort to see the princess every day, her opinion of him began to change. But when Helia had offered to read to her, willingly spend time with her, everything that she thought she knew had been destroyed, and in its place was the man who sat next to her, reading about the poor servant girl and her wicked stepmother and stepsisters.
She returned her eyes back to her sewing, listening to the story as Helia continued to read.
"...'You would wish for me to go to the ball?' Cinderella asked in mild bewilderment. Her stepsister began to protest the idea of Cinderella going to the ball. 'No, mother! She can't go to the ball! She is just some servant girl.' But the wicked stepmother glanced towards her daughters, a devilish grin stretching over her face. 'Cinderella is correct, the invitation did say every maiden in the household is to attend. But,' the stepmother turned to Cinderella, 'we must make sure that the house is kept tidy, the kitchen clean, the garden tended, and the furniture dusted. We cannot have a royal bottom sitting on a dirty chair, can we?' Cinderella shook her head. 'Good. Now I don't see why if your chores are not complete, you shouldn't be able to go.' Cinderella's lips stretched into a wide smile of elation, 'Thank you, stepmother! Thank you!' Cinderella left the drawing-room, leaving her stepmother and two perturbed stepsisters. 'Mother! You cannot be serious! Letting Cinderella go to the ball?! It's absolutely ridi-' 'I said if she completes her chores.'..."
"I hope that she will be able to complete all of her chores in time. She has to go to the ball!" Flora exclaimed as she rested the needle on the cloth, too entranced by the story to focus on her sewing.
Helia set the book down on his lap and looked at Flora, "And ruin the story? I think not. Or would you just like me to skip to the end and tell you what happens? That wouldn't be much fun, now would it? Though I suppose it would save me a lot of time to just tell you."
Flora huffed as she picked up her needle and resumed her work on the blue gown for Krystal.
"Shall I continue?" Helia asked, a teasing tone to his voice.
"Sorry," Flora blushed, "please continue, Your Highness."
Helia adjusted the book in front of him and continued with the story. He read on, the plight of Cinderella's hard work becoming the main focus of the story. How she would spend day after day toiling away with the mounting work that her stepmother and stepsisters had created for the poor, young woman. Flora set down her needle and thread as Helia read about how the night of the ball had come around and that Cinderella still had not completed her work and that she did not have a gown to attend the ball.
"She...she doesn't attend that ball, Your Highness?" Flora asked, her green eyes filled with worry for the story's protagonist.
Glancing up from the book, Helia took in Flora's sorrowful expression.
"The story is not over yet," Helia said, striving to give some hope to the handmaiden.
Flora was silent as Helia continued with the story, leaning forward when Helia had arrived at the part of the fairy godmother. Helia's eyes never left the pages of the book as he read aloud, partly so that he would not stumble over his words but also, he knew that if he had not been entirely focused on the story, he would have gotten swept up in the light behind Flora's eyes as he read. He could feel her leaning closer and closer to him, falling into the story of the servant girl who by a stroke of luck and magic, would be going to the ball to hopefully have a chance to dance with the prince. He read on about how Cinderella had captured the attention of the prince and how they had danced all night long, lost in each other's gaze and embrace. The attendees of the ball vanished between the servant girl and the prince until their small little world shattered around them as the clock struck midnight.
Helia lost his resolve and glanced up at the beautiful Linphean woman in front of him, her elbows on her knees and her hands cradled her head. Her eyes were focused on him, hooded and she seemed to be lost in a trance.
Helia cleared his throat, "Is, uh, is everything alright?"
"Hmm?" Flora answered softly, lifting her head up and returning to reality, "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness, I was just imagining what it would be like to go to a ball."
"Have you never been to one?" Helia asked.
"No, Your Highness. But Krystal tells me all about them and they sound absolutely wonderful. The beautiful gowns, the delicious food, the dancing-"
"The dreaded small talk, everyone staring at you and speaking about you behind your back, dancing with people that you don't like and who don't like you. Trust me," Helia closed the book and set it on his lap as he folded his arms across his chest, "balls are boring, dull, and a complete waste of time."
Flora frowned and her eyes became downcast towards the book, "Cinderella and the prince really seemed to enjoy their time together at the ball, Your Highness."
Helia scoffed and turned his head away, "Don't be foolish," Helia then looked at Flora, "this is just some silly children's story told so that young children have some excuse to dream that their pathetic lives might be better than what they are."
"I guess that it is naive to think that any of this could ever possibly be real. A servant attending a ball? How ridiculous." Flora stood up and grabbed her things in her hands as she walked over to the large kitchen table, "But I don't think that there is anything wrong with dreaming."
Helia rose to his feet and followed behind. He watched as she folded up the blue cloth and caught glimpses of small and delicate floral appliques on the cloth. Had she made all of those flowers herself? They looked as if they were done with expert care. Flora grabbed a brass kettle and filled it with water and set it on the wood-burning stove.
"My father always said to keep your heart open to dreams. For as long as there's a dream, there is hope, and as long as there is hope, there is joy in living." Flora smiled as she pulled down two battered tin cups from the cupboard and a small container holding loose tea leaves.
Helia wanted to tell Flora that her father sounded like a loon, that no matter how hard somebody dreamed, there was no chance of following it. His father had told him that there had been no use in dreaming, that they were for people who did not have power and those who had no power were people not worth listening to. However, as he watched Flora talk about her father and pour the hot water into the tin cups, he saw the fondness in her eyes and heard the soft tone of her voice. She appeared to be lost in a memory that he had the decency not to bring her out of. Just because his memory had been so sordid didn't mean that he had to ruin the beautiful memories of someone else.
"And where is your father now?" Helia asked.
Flora stopped pouring the water into the cups and stared forward, the light in her eyes fading away and she once again became lost in a world different from reality.
"He's dead, Your Highness."
He had never heard her voice so lifeless. Helia swallowed, he shouldn't have asked. Should he say something? Should he apologize or try to make her feel better by saying that a dead father would be better than having his father for a father? Should he ask about her mother? But Helia relaxed in relief when Flora continued to talk.
"It happened quite some time ago, but I still remember what he sounded like, the way that he smelled after he returned home from working in the fields, and how he held his pipe as he read to me and-" Flora shook her head and took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry, Your Highness, I got carried away."
The smell of warm tea filled the air, a different blend must have been used in this instant as the smell had been different. It smelled of rich spices and had an earthy quality to it. Helia walked over to where Flora stood as she picked up both of the cups and held one in front of her for Helia to take.
"I imagine that it would be easy to get carried away in a pleasant memory," Helia replied, trying to not make matters worse as he took hold of the tin cup. His fingertips brushed against Flora's, and he immediately felt warmth course through his body, though he supposed that it could have been the warm cup of tea.
"I try to hold onto as many happy memories as I can, and I try even harder to find them." Flora smiled bashfully as she blew over the top of her cup of tea.
"Ha," Helia scoffed, "too bad you will not find any here."
"I don't think that is true, Your Highness." Flora took a sip of her tea, "Tonight will be a night that I will always remember and one that I will cherish for the rest of my life."
Helia didn't know what to say, he had never been directly responsible for the happiness of someone else. He knew that he had made the princess happy when he had shown up for those pointless teas, but he had done it all for Flora, not for the princess. Helia wanted to protest, tell her that it wasn't true, that it couldn't be true. But once again, she had been the first to speak as he grappled with what to say next, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
"Will you keep reading, Your Highness? I would really like to know what happens next." Flora asked as she returned to the wooden chair that she was previously sitting in. Helia nodded his head and returned to his seat and opened the book back to where he had left off.
Flora sipped her tea and once again became lost in the story of the servant girl who just had a wonderful time at the ball, even if it was a little short. She sank into her chair as she listened to Helia's voice read about the hunt for the mystery woman who had captured the attention and the heart of the young prince. The prince would stop at nothing to find the girl and to make her his queen. The prince finally found Cinderella when her foot fit the glass slipper and the two were immediately wed. Helia paused when he read the final words, "And they both lived happily ever after."
When Helia ended, Flora closed her eyes and for a small second remembered the small moments of bliss when her father would complete a story. How he would kiss her on top of the head and tell her to head off to bed and that he would see her in the morning. Opening her eyes, Flora looked ahead to the prince who looked at her, the book closed and in his lap.
"What a marvelous story," Flora remarked with a contented sigh. She gripped the now empty tin cup in her hand and held it close to her chest. "Yes, I think that I will definitely cherish tonight. Thank you, Your Highness."
"Y...you're welcome." Helia stammered. He had never been thanked so sincerely in all of his life. Any kind words thrown his way were because people felt an obligation to say so, but at this moment, there was no ulterior motive behind the thanks that Flora had bestowed upon him.
"Would you read me another story some other night, Your Highness?" Flora asked with a smile. "That is if you have time and you-"
"What would you have me read?" Helia responded with a question of his own as he cut off Flora before she began to ramble.
"Whatever you would like, Your Highness. Though I hope that it will be a story as wonderful as this. It has now become one of my favorites."
"Then I shall have to think hard about the next story that I read to you," Helia smirked as he rose to his feet. Flora stood up and grabbed Helia's empty cup and placed both of the tin cups in the large basin of water.
"Another story that you heard as a child. That is what I would want, Your Highness." Flora turned back to look at the prince. "If that is not too much to ask, Your Highness."
"Not at all, though I must admit that there aren't too many of them seeing as my mother-"
Flora stared up at the young prince, "I didn't...I didn't mean to bring back sad memories, Your Highness. I know how hard on the soul sad memories can be."
"Not sad," Helia corrected with a tenderness in his voice that Flora had never heard before, "just melancholic. I don't like to think about the past, it only spoils what could be of the future."
There was a pause where neither the prince nor the handmaiden wanted to make the tense situation any worse. But unlike the times before, Helia had been the one to speak up and end the silence.
"I think that I have the perfect story."
"Really?" Flora's soft lips spread into a wide smile, sending Helia's heart fluttering in a new way that was oddly uncomfortable, "Is there a ball in this one as well, Your Highness?"
"What is it with you and balls?" Helia scoffed as he folded his arms over his chest.
"It is nice to imagine what it would be like. And I know that Princess Krystal would want-"
The fluttering in Helia's chest stopped as Flora mentioned the princess, "There is not going to be a ball in this castle. My father would not allow it and I think that it is futile to think that he would ever allow such frivolity, especially in my honor."
Flora inhaled, "You don't know if you don't try, Your Highness."
"Why do you insist on making me ask my father? You have met the man and I am shocked to find you so confident in my abilities to appeal to his senses. He hates me and I firmly believe the next ball that he would ever be pleased to throw is if I were to pass before him."
"How could you say such things, Your Highness?"
"Everyone knows that my father does not care for me and I believe that he only tolerates me because I had the great misfortune of being his only son and heir. Though I know that I am not the son that he wishes he had. Captain Duncan would easily and gladly fill the spot in my absence."
"If it is any consolation, Your Highness, but I much rather prefer your company to the captain's. You are far more...pleasant." Flora gave Helia a soft smile as she placed a hand on Helia's arm before walking past him to the large wooden table in the kitchen to gather her things.
Helia wanted to smile but knew that she was just being nice because she had to be. But he was beginning to learn more about the handmaiden and could not find a fault in her sincerity, allowing Helia a glimmer of hope that her kindness had been real.
"I shall talk to my father." Helia conceded as he ran his fingertips over the blue gown, "But only on one condition."
"Of course, anything, Your Highness." Flora beamed as she stared up at Helia.
"I will only ask if I know that you will be in attendance."
Flora took a step back and her eyes widened in surprise.
"M...m...me, Your Highness?" Flora was taken aback by the prince's ultimatum, "What use would a servant have at a ball? It would not be right, Your Highness."
"I thought that you were also a Guardian, whatever that might be," Helia replied.
Flora's mouth shut momentarily, her eyes glazing over again in distant thought.
"It still would not be right, Your Highness. I shouldn't attend."
"You must," Helia said.
"I can't, Your Highness."
"I demand it," Helia commanded as he took a step towards Flora, closing the gap between the two of them.
Flora looked into the prince's blue eyes and held its gaze as she assessed his request. She had come to the decision that he was being serious though she could not understand why.
"And I told you before, Your Highness, my orders come from my princess."
Helia exhaled with a laugh, the spicy scent of the tea lingering on his breath as it hit Flora in the face. She had to admit that it smelled much better than the smell of whiskey that usually awaited her when she had gotten too close to the prince. And she was glad that he had not been yelling at her this time, insisting that she stay away. In fact, he was doing the opposite, demanding her to get closer.
"If you will not come, then there shall be no ball."
"Why would you want someone like me there anyways, Your Highness?" Flora asked as her eyes softened under the prince's gaze.
Helia unconsciously reached down and traced his fingertips over the back of Flora's tan palms, causing a shiver to run up Flora's spine. But it had been unlike the chill that overcame her body when Duncan had wrapped his arm around her in the arena. His fingertips swirled a pattern over her hand and they both had become momentarily lost in the small connection that they had made.
"Because, Flora," Helia's mouth turned up into a small smile, the sound of her name sounding so comfortable in his mouth, "I don't think that I could get through a dull and draining ball without knowing that you are there. It will be comforting to know that there will be at least one person there who won't talk poorly about me behind my back and then smile at me a moment later as if they had just not been cursing my name before. If you are there, then I know there is something real and good at the ball. Please, say that you will go."
Flora looked down at her hand that had been softly adorned with invisible designs by the prince's fingertips.
"I shall think about it, Your Highness."
"I am going to need an answer now before I talk to my father."
"Your Highness-"
"Yes or no?"
Flora sighed into a smile, "I know that it shall make my princess happy if you were to ask your father, so yes, I will go."
"Then I will speak to my father, tomorrow."
"Thank you, Your Highness, my princess will be most overjoyed knowing that you have asked your father and that she will have a reason to wear her new dress."
"Yes," Helia wanted to groan but held back his disdain for the fact that Flora thought that he was doing this to make the princess happy, "well," Helia removed his hand from Flora's, the temperature in the kitchen suddenly dropping, "I will see you tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow, Your Highness." Flora confirmed, her voice just above a whisper.
"Good night." Helia grabbed the small blue book on the table and held it tightly by his side.
Flora gave the prince a small curtsy before grabbing the cloth, thread, and needle cushion in her hands. "Good night, Your Highness. Thank you again."
Helia gave her a small wave as she turned and walked out of the kitchen. As he heard her footsteps leave the kitchen and make their way down the hall to the bedrooms, Helia felt his knees grow weak and placed a hand on the large wooden table. Helia looked down at his hands as they trembled above the wood, remembering the velvety feel of Flora's hands and willed his head to burn it into memory, no matter if he would regret it later. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, the smell of tea and peaches lingering in the air as he breathed in. All he wanted was her, but he knew that there was no way that he could have her, but in those brief moments when his hand was connected to hers, he dared himself to dream that she could be his. But she would never be his, he was promised to another. That was the problem with dreams, eventually, you would have to wake up and the reality of the real world would come crashing down. Helia knew better than to dream of the impossible, but his mind spun with the thought of Flora being his.
Reality came crashing down again when Helia remembered that not only was he promised to someone else but that he was still the same prince who had yelled at her multiple times, almost hit her with a glass, and who had blinded a man with a family and his whole life ahead of him because Helia could not contain his anger. How could someone as wonderful as Flora ever want someone like him?
Slamming his hand down on the large table, Helia took one last deep breath and as he exhaled, he opened his eyes and stared down at the light blue book. He ran his hand over the cover of the book and his face contorted into a pained expression.
"Fuck." He cursed to himself.
He was in trouble.