Author's Note: Had this idea swimming in my head for a while, so I just had to write it down. Let me know what you think about it. This is just a rough draft, having filled in the details yet. Currently, Stubborn Souls' next chapter in on its way.
By the way, I'm currently looking for someone to be my beta-reader, that way I can improve more on the plots and such. Also, that someone will be able to get first look at the next chapter and so on! Hehe...anyone interested?
In the gentle night, a solitary figure stood in the balcony of its room. An occasional breeze came and ruffled his gloriously golden locks. The balcony overlooked the magnificent garden below and he had always find peace within its flowery bushes. But tonight, he didn't feel like entering the garden. Sitting on the ledge with his back against the wall, he instead lifted his head. Luxurious golden locks fell forward, hiding most of his features, and without warning, silvery trails marked their way down his cheeks. His whole frame shook silently as he wrapped his arms around his knees. This was unlike him, who was always full of passion and spark.
As though remembering himself, he wiped away the tears with such vigour, it was as though he was disgusted of his tears. Wrapping his arms around his knees again, he watched the sky. His cheeks still glinted and glittered with wetness. And throughout the whole night, he stayed on the ledge.
No one had noticed how withdrawn he had gradually been. They had been too busy preparing. Sitting on the balcony's ledge, he watched them below. The maids busied themselves plucking the roses while the soldiers with the daily duties and a few extra chores. Everyone was as cheerful as ever. Everyone but him.
He could not bring himself to feel as happy like the others. And that is why he had locked himself up in his own room. In order not to spoil the joy that was spreading around. With a leg hanging over the balcony's ledge, he continued watching the maids merrily chatted as they worked. He watched how careful they cut the roses and not to be pricked by their thorns. A shout came from nearby and he glanced towards its direction.
Not far from where the maids were, a group of soldiers were gathered around. Most held those so-called baseball mitts while others watched from the sidelines. And in the midst of them, a dark-haired boy swung the bat around before readied his stance. A frown came upon, marring his beautiful features.
Almost violently he swung his leg back to the ground and strode into the room. The curtains, having being pulled back, were thrown together in a rather violent manner.
To pass the time, he busied himself with his paints. Amazingly he was able to paint with only a sliver of light from a gap between the curtains. His brush swept across the canvas with an alarming speed while his brow was marred with a frown of concentration.
Once in a while he'd stop, only to continue on with his hazardous painting. Paints were everywhere and all around. And even on him. Finished canvases littered around while many more empty ones piled in one corner of the room.
His brushed swept across the canvas one final time before it stopped. With a sigh, the brush was pulled back from the canvas and placed down besides the paints on a nearby table. He was almost afraid to pull back the curtains as he stood. Afraid to see the finished canvas, for he knew what it would reveal. Like many of the others he had done. But nevertheless, with a small amount of courage, he threw back the curtains with a flourish.
Sunlight streamed in and glinted off the freshly painted canvas. He wasn't disappointed at all, for he had already knew what this last canvas would reveal. His greatest and deepest wish.
People used to say reminiscing about the past was a good way to change oneself, and he couldn't help but reminiscence about his own past. Or more particularly, a past memory that got him isolated from the others. The outside world was now his only companions. The gentle breeze that ruffled his locks calmed his heart while the scenery soothed his soul. With his back against the wall, he was the perfect image of total peace.
It was such a cruel way for him to know the truth. Someone had told him the whereabouts of the king and like an idiot, he went searching for him, even in the rain. He didn't have to search that long either. With the rain running down his body, he stood there, unable to move. Numbness must have caused his disability to move but it sure had not impaired his vision. But thankfully, the heavens had the decency to blur his vision.
Thankfully, remembering it had not brought out a new fresh batch of tears, though it had brought sharp stabs to his heart as coldness seeped into his body.
A few days later, he himself called off the engagement though not in the presence of the king. He had in fact only told of his intentions. His brothers were surprised, especially Conrad. His mother, though, seemed to have figured out and had only accepted his decision with a small nod.
Closing his eyes, he felt the gentle breeze upon his moon-kissed skin, allowing it to calm his nerves and his heart. For the inevitable tomorrow.