Hello hello! So this is the last "Filler Filler" chapter before we really begin to (finally) get into the Selection. I HAVE THREE SPOTS LEFT. They are open to anyone, even if you've already submitted two. BUT, it still must be PM. Everyone's reviews are awesome! Thank you all. A lot of them really make my day :D
Anyway, here's the next chapter!
Lucas stared hard at the intricately painted ceiling, the details not escaping his careful eye. He lay flat on the cool tile in one of the useless extra rooms in the massive palace, but this one was one of Lucas' favorites.The color scheme (as each room had one) was different shades of blue, and the painting Lucas was looking at was of a pair of white swans intertwined in a glittering deep grayish blue lake. The sky was dark and the bright moon illuminated the swans, who had their heads bowed together, creating a perfect heart.
Lucas found this particular painting stunning, but it meant so much more to him than most knew. He felt the colors blur together as the memories came back to him.
"Mama!" a small Lucas cried, head swiveling left to right, searching for the sparkling crown and complicated updo among the crowd of black tuxedos. Six body guards surrounded him as he tried to peek between legs, desperate to see his mother's rich purple ball gown swaying as she walked.
Lucas was very frustrated, as all eight year olds get when they don't find what they want. He wanted his mama, and he wanted her now. He didn't understand why he had to be caged by bodyguards while his mother roamed free. They were at a street market in Bralis (AN: Brazil), a country far south of Illea, on vacation. Queen Lia, an avid lover of art, was searching for rare pieces from exotic parts of the world. Braille was known for their classical and modern art sculptures, but Lia was looking more for the former.
Lucas sighed and pouted, kicking out his legs and stirring up the dry dirt as he walked. It was hot, he was tired, he was hungry, and he was alone. His father had fallen ill; nothing serious, but he didn't feel up to following his wife around and giving his opinion only to have it be ignored. Little James was deemed far too young and fragile to be taken on the trip, and Lucas was utterly bored without his playmate.
The streets were crowded with people, shopping at the various street vendors. Often times the bodyguards would have to stop in a tight street as the noisy crowd would not part, not even for the royalty. Lucas would think they would care, but the commoners talked in their different language and brushed up against the guards and Lia as if they were ordinary people. He wasn't sure he liked that, but his mother didn't seem to mind. Looking up, the little boy could see the large leaves of odd trees to his right and could hear the crashing of waves to his left.
Suddenly the boy heard an "ah!" in front of him and his guards suddenly stopped, making Lucas crash into their muscular legs. They began to move to the right of the street, shifting their bodies slowly so hardly any gaps were made. He stood on his tip toes, jumping up to try to see over the men's shoulders. He eventually gave up, sighing in exasperation.
Five minutes went by and nothing happened. He was drawing circles in the dirt when he heard his mother's voice talking softly.
"Gordon, let Lucas come here," she ordered, but her tone had no harshness in it. The biggest guard, who was standing in front of Lucas, walked forward a couple steps, allowing the young Prince to dash out of his "cage." The boy spun around, gazing at the world that was blocked from him. He saw the ocean and the beach and the hoards of people covering the golden sand. He heard the seagulls cawing as they circled above. He saw the different people with darker skin, crazy hair, interesting clothes. Everything seemed so foreign, so much more fun than Illea.
His mother calling him drew him away from his sightseeing. She stood by an unhealthily skinny young man with dark tanned skin. He had the beginnings of a beard and mustache growing and choppy thin black hair. His bony back was hunched and his thick eyebrows furrowed as he investigated his work.
Lucas wasn't really sure what it was the man was doing. An odd wooden contraption was set up and a rectangular white block stood on it. He had never seen a blank canvas before, and he had never painted before. The Royal Nurses were too afraid of the toxins and dangerous possibilities to let the heir to the throne play with paint. Anyway, Lucas found this new activity intriguing, and he went closer to Lia to see more. She was looking over the man's shoulder with a soft smile on her face, eyes wide and excited. Nobody in the streets seemed to notice the Royal Queen and Prince of Illea crowded around the street vendor. Even the man painting seemed to believe they were invisible.
"Come here, Lucas," his mother called, glancing away to look at him. He obeyed his mother and hugged her ballgown, peering up at the object.
It was beautiful, with vibrant greens and hot reds and sunny yellows. It was of the strange forest he had seen the leaves of trees of while he was locked inside the guards' "cage." But it was more in depth and showed many pictures at once; birds swooped near and far, down and up, right and left, and dark trees, hunched and sloped, gave an eerie feeling that sent chills up Lucas' spine. But nevertheless, the painting was intricate and absolutely stunning with its details and color.
"Mama, what is that?" Young Lucas asked, pointing at a bird with a long, bright yellow nose.
"That's a toucan," Lia answered, smiling at her son. "Do you like the painting?"
"Yes, Mama," he said, nodding his head.
Lia nodded also, deep in thought. Her smile disappeared as her lips pursed. "Excuse me, young man," she said, touching the vendor's shoulder. "What is your name?"
He didn't stop working when he said, "Los." (AN: As in the end of the name "Carlos")
"Well, Los, I would like to offer you a trade for your paintings," the Queen said, using her "business tone," as her advisor liked to call it. Queen Lia was just as involved in the economics of Illea as her husband, she was very well educated in the art of trade. She used this tone when she was proposing an idea or discussing business with her advisors.
Los didn't respond, but he set down his paintbrush slowly. Lia took this as a sign to proceed.
"I would like to offer you a lifetime of plenty in exchange for you in my palace as my painter."
"What would this "lifetime of plenty" consist of?" He asked, looking over his shoulder to inspect the Queen and Prince. Lia held herself with confidence but not snobbish power. Her shoulders were back, hands clasped in front of her. She did not keep her nose up, and met Los' eyes evenly.
"Free food when you want it, a tax-free permanent residence, a family of maids and doctors and artists like you, and a fresh start. You can even bring your brothers and sisters and mother and father with you."
"I have no family but Scruff," Los answered, nodding his head to a small terrier dog. It was missing its gray fur in patches, one ear half torn off and scars all across its muzzle. It looked as if it were in pain, lying on its side next to Los' chair. "I don't come without Scruff."
"Scruff would be a wonderful addition. He can surely come with us," Lia said, smiling in delight. Los smiled too, crooked yellow teeth exposed for the first time in a long while.
When Los came back to Illea, he was amazed by the wonders of a real home. He made many friends and fell in love with a maid. He painted in almost every room of the Palace, listening to what Lia wanted and exceeding her expectations. Young Lucas liked to watch Los paint, and while Los painted he talked of Bralis and the people and forests and stories of himself and his life.
Scruff was happy, following his owner everywhere. The vets had treated him and he slowly grew his fur back. Of course the maids were frantic about his shedding fur, trailing the dog with vacuums. Lucas found it hilarious, watching them circle the Palace the whole day. The dog even seemed to enjoy their anxiety, wagging his tail and rolling around on the carpets.
Unfortunately, Los died of a foreign fever that the Illean doctors had no idea on how to treat. Scruff died soon after, too depressed to eat or drink.
The swan painting Lucas stared up at now was Los' last painting. It was painted shortly after Lia had died. Los was heavily saddened with his Queen's death; she had become very close with him, treating him as a brother instead of a worker. The painting was symbolic of the sweet love Lia and Carlisle shared, but the blue exuded the melancholy of her absence.
He missed the past very badly, back when the sun shined brighter and the world was happier. Back when there was no war and there was no death. Back when Lia was alive and the family only felt joy.
Back when I didn't know Vivienne, Lucas thought, bitterness filling him. He was so shocked and angered and- dare he say it- hurt that his girlfriend had slapped him the night before. He honestly didn't know what it was that pushed her to that point, but now he didn't care. Or, he didn't want to care. Lucas had truly loved Vivienne, with her tinkling laugh and delicate steps, even for her muscular frame. He knew she was not physically beautiful, but her personality and heart made her as a person incredibly attractive, and Lucas wasn't sure he would love anyone as much as he loved Viv.
In just eight weeks he'd have thirty-five girls living in his home, trying to win his already stolen heart. Lucas steeled himself. He was not Vivienne's anymore, nor was she his. He was going to forget her, move on with the Selection, try to find a Queen for the country. It didn't matter anymore what Lucas wanted; right now the country needed some excitement and hope and Lucas felt it was his responsibility to provide it. His father was in no condition whatsoever to lift the people's spirits, and his brother had been M.I.A. for the last ten years.
Lucas wondered about James now. His younger brother had practically hid himself away after Lia died, and the once strong relationship they shared was nonexistent now. He wondered whose fault it was. Was it his, for not trying hard enough to reach out and comfort James? Or was it James' fault, for hiding away and excluding himself from the world? He never had dinner with Carlisle or Lucas and he didn't come on trips to other countries anymore and never showed his face on the Report and he never-
Lucas stopped himself. He had done a lot of thinking, but now he needed to act. He wanted to fix his broken bond with his little brother. He missed his little playmate and he didn't really know who James was now. He saw his brother very little these days, but when he did, James was sulking around in the halls with a video camera. They didn't even acknowledge each other.
There were a lot of things Lucas needed to fix, but he really had no clue on how, and this irritated him. He wanted to repair what was no longer working, to find solutions to the problems. His father told him this was a great quality for a King, but failed to warn him that too much of a good thing can become bad.
When Lucas heard the bells and dongs from the bell towers and clocks, he realized it was three in the afternoon; he had spent six hours on a tile floor staring at a painting in an abandoned room. He was surprised he didn't hear the other bells and dongs that rang at twelve; they usually brought him out of his thoughts.
Groaning, Lucas got up and stretched, his muscles sore from the hard floor. Opening the locked doors, he stepped out and into the long hallway. Instantly men in suits and women in nice pantsuits approached him, bombarding him with questions.
"Would you like the girls' bedroom walls lavender or peach? I was thinking lighter-"
"We didn't want to disturb you-"
"Do you want the carpets to be redone? They look a little-"
"What food would you like to be served? I'm going to need a list-"
"New clothes are currently being made for you-"
Voices overlapping each other made Lucas' head swim. He didn't realize that preparing for a Selection would be so chaotic and unorganized.
"Stop!" He yelled over them, using his "deep" voice. He didn't like to use it a lot, because it made him feel like he seemed controlling and unfeeling, trampling over other people. He preferred to stay humble and calm, but right now all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't have a bunch of patience at that moment. "Please," he said, exasperated. "Please, on at a time, from left to right. Go," he ordered, looking at a tiny older woman in a black and purple pantsuit.
As Lucas answered every question his planners had-which seemed endless-he realized he wasn't quite ready to face the reality of finding love in someone other than the orange-headed maid that washed his clothes. But what would help him as he struggled to move on? He couldn't seek counsel in a person for obvious reasons; people loved to gossip about other people, and somehow secrets always slipped out. Lucas felt alone, with no one he could share his feelings with.
"Prince Lucas," an older man said, snapping the Prince back into reality. The planners had all left, discussing and arguing with each other about what they think would be best as they slowly made their way down the hall.
"Yes?"
"The Report tomorrow will be when you announce your Selection," the gray haired man said. "You need a speech and I'm here to help you write it. Do you want anything specific to be said?"
Lucas pondered this for a while before answering. He was very good with words and could've probably winged it the next day, but he knew that was irresponsible and childish. He wanted every girl in Illea to prepare themselves for what they were getting into. The broken-hearted man almost felt bad for them, for the girls that would actually want to love him and not his title and throne. They didn't know why he would have a hard time opening up to them and reciprocating affection. He knew some would give up, others would push, and the rest would confusedly try to help.
Lucas suddenly realized what he needed, how this Selection would actually be good for him instead of painful. He knew exactly what he was looking for now, no longer feeling blind and lost and hopeless. Right then, Lucas was positive that there was a girl out there that could mend his heart and erase pain of his past and memories. In this case, it was Lucas that needed to be fixed, and this time someone else would be the fixer.
"I want every girl in Illea to know that I am looking for a specific type. A girl that may not be unique or special to others, but has a certain ability, you could say, that I need."
The old man looked puzzled, confused by Lucas' lack of description. He wrote it down anyway, waiting for more to be said. As Lucas thought about it more, he felt more sure of himself, more excited for this Selection, because it was what he needed to move on from Vivienne and the hurt that was associated with her. He smiled at the man, who began to look a little uncertain, and said,
"I am looking for a girl that can fix what is broken."
The look of concern and bewilderment on the man's face was absolutely priceless.
So we finally have the perspective of Lucas! Yay! Let me know what you think! Reviews actually really help me, even if it is just saying "good job" or "update soon." REMEMBER, THREE SPOTS STILL OPEN TO ANYONE AS LONG AS IT'S PMd. Thank you!