Light rose-colored strobes tickled the tip of my nose.
I smiled.
"Pope…"
"What is it?" he asked me. His left arm stretched out, so I laid my head on it. The evening wind swayed the leaves, and the stars were out to watch the gala. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeper than my first as the sound of strings playing in the ballroom reached my ears.
"I love you," I whispered, snuggling close to his side. A smile grew on my face as I felt his soft lips against my forehead. His arms circled around me as he pulled me closer and a refreshing scent of peppermint lingered in my nose, a scent he knew I love.
"Hm, as do I." he answered. He distanced himself and tipped my chin, "I love you too, my Princess." His lips brushed mine in a chaste kiss, prompted my arms to circle his neck and pull him closer for another one, and I did so without delay until the second kiss deepened.
"Everything all right?" Pope's brow arched when I pushed him slightly away from me.
"Hmm-mm… Nothing. I'm fine."
Pope tilted his head for a second and, to my surprise, hovered above me. "Tell me, Princess, what's bothering your pretty little mind?" I could smell the tinge of aged wine from his breath. And those subtle lips—I couldn't stop staring at them. I stared at him with a widening grin on my face as the rose-colored strobes around him darkened slowly into red, but in the blink of my eye, it all popped, and I shook my head.
I sat down abruptly, pushing him again to his surprise.
"Pope, if I—If I asked you to run away with me, would you do it?"
"Huh? Run away? Elope?" his mouth slightly gaped as he leaned back with his hand supporting his weight and looked in the distance.
I nodded awkwardly.
"Why would you even want to elope?" the chuckle in his question surprised me. He shook his head, maybe thinking how ridiculous of a thing for me to ask. "Too much wine, perhaps?" he laughed, and I could just feel the blood rushing to my face. I looked down, gripping on my skirt.
'I'm serious!' was what I thought but didn't tell him.
Pope and I were childhood friends. His ancestor's kingdom signed a treaty of loyalty to the empire. The third generation of my family safeguarded the independent kingdom of Rottson, where the current ruling family for twelve generations already was Pope's. Surrounded by water, Rottson had been the nearest port to our country, a valuable part of any empire; it's the second most significant income source because of the business that came overseas through the port. For these same reasons, neighboring kingdoms that wanted to take over the port had taken Pope's kingdom advantage. With then king, Livius the First, who's too peace-loving to even want to wage war to state their independence, he signed the treaty proposed by my ancestor, King Wilhelm the Fourth; to remain an independent country, rendering their services to the throne.
Not only was Rottson the only kingdom under my family's ruling, but four more. They all had the same reason of wanting to be independent and safeguarded from others who wish to rob them of their sovereignty; Rainwell, Chamberton, Murston, and Barfield; six including Maymont but it's a different story from the others.
My train of thoughts halted when a knock on the balcony door broke our silence. "Princess, I apologize for the interruption, but your father's looking for you."
I nodded, and Ruth, my lady-in-waiting, curtsied before she left us.
"Will you come back with me to the ballroom, my Prince?" I smiled, vanishing the dark orbs that started to gather around me as I reached out my hand to Pope, leaning against the rails.
"I would rather stay here with you, my Princess than meet a hundred strangers." He gently gripped my hand and pulled me to his chest, his arms circling my waist again as we stood staring at each other. "But I don't want to make the emperor wait either, so let's go." My knees almost gave in as his breath touched my lips. My eyes closed on their own, and my lips quivered to be taken, but he only patted me on the head.
Annoyed, I pouted and left him behind.
As I entered the hall, I snapped my fingers, and the guest gasped at the sudden amusement. Translucent but colorful orbs started floating around and changed color along with the rhythm of the music; when they popped, they exploded like little fireworks then into nothingness.
My father, Emperor Octavian de'Fleur, turned around expectantly and beamed with his arms broad to the sides.
"There's my precious girl," was my father's introduction when he saw me through the door escorted by Pope, "May I, third Prince of Rottson?" he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Father!" I scolded.
"Greetings to the Sun of the Empire," Pope bowed deeply.
My father waved his hand and laughed, "I was just humoring Pope, Yanna. I know how much both of you love each other."
"I'll excuse myself then, your grace," he politely nodded again and showed a curt smile.
"Join in the festivity, son, while I take my daughter away from you for a while."
It had been weeks since we last saw each other, and all I ever wanted was to spend my time with him, but my father has some other plans, and of course, it's his special; I couldn't possibly be the one to ruin it for him. So I awkwardly smiled at Pope as he excused himself and turned his back to slowly blend in the crowd.
My father wasn't as happy as I was when I told him the news of my relationship with Pope. As the next in line for the throne, I was constantly reminded that finding a partner was more of an obligation and responsibility than a simple whim of the heart. That I needed someone not to only be my husband but also a partner, an equal, who can stand beside me and rule. And unfortunately, Pope wasn't that kind of person.
My father knew about it, I knew about it, but I love him. I knew I wanted to be with him since I was little. He took care of me, supports me, and protects me from even the tiniest things. He sees me as the girl that I really was, not a princess or the next empress.
"Have you talked to Pope about what we discussed a few days ago?" my hand on my father's arm tightened, and my face visibly twisted when my father asked me in a low voice without looking at me.
I cleared my throat as a response, and he patted my hand understandingly. I learned that my mother's dying wish was to let me find the love of my life, but he couldn't seem to keep that promise. Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I intentionally let my father hear my sniffs, careful not to let any sort of tear come onto the surface.
I kept on telling myself that tonight's a happy occasion; I should not ruin it.
After a few faces, my father guided me near the dais where my new mother was seated. The moment she saw us coming, she stood from her seat and walked towards us with her beautiful smile and open arms.
"Lady Olivia… Mother…" her embrace tightened until I felt her sobbing.
"Hey, it's your wedding celebration. I don't think Ramon would be pleased to see your make-up all ruined like that," I kidded.
Olivia let out a giggle before she distanced herself to dry off her tears.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I was just so happy that you called me mother. I know I wouldn't be able to…"
"Shh… we already talked about this, right? My mother died giving birth to me, so I don't even feel how it is to have an actual mother. You're my mother now, and what kind of daughter would I be if I let my mother feel sad all the time?" I smiled at Olivia and looked at my father, who was so entertained looking at us with loving eyes.
Lady Olivia Leighton lives in the city of Farvale, the heart of the empire. Business flourished in the inner city, with merchants coming in and out with new products. Fresh produce came daily from neighboring towns. My new mother was a baron's daughter. They made their fortune from fabrics and being generations of the best seamstresses in the Etolle Empire have ever had. Their family had been making dresses for the royal family for generations. But before she married my father, she had been friends with my mother, for she was the fourth daughter of my mother's old seamstress, who already passed away a few years back.
The night my father told me about his planning to remarry, he was so nervous that he sipped the freshly brewed tea Ruth served us at my balcony. He said to me that though he loved my mother so dearly, and I know that he did, for the first time in a long time, he said, he strongly felt that it was time for him to love again. At first, I was planning to pick my new mother myself, mainly because I didn't want any ill-natured person beside my father all his life. But before I knew it, I was already sitting at our dining table facing my seamstress and her daughter, that was around my age.
"I hope this wouldn't come as a shock to you, my dear," I saw my father's hand on top of my seamstress.
"Ah… of course not, Father," I answered, reaching for the bowl of soup at my side.
I felt a sudden tug on my sleeve, "Princess, that's not yours, or even a soup to begin with," I heard Ruth whispered. Though Ruth was my lady-in-waiting, she's more like a sister and a princess nonetheless. I looked over to her, bewildered, and thought how could I ever be mistaken—but then, I really was. What I was plunging my spoon into was my washbowl. Embarrassed by the obvious, I withdrew my utensil and cleared my throat. "Here, your water." I nodded to Ruth as thanks and brought my attention back to my love-drunk father.
"I know this is all so sudden to you, Princess. I don't even know what to say." I was at a standstill with myself. Olivia had been my seamstress since I was a babe, as I was told, but I couldn't help but feel—jealous. Aside from my mother, I was the only girl in my father's eyes for sixteen years, and then all of a sudden, though I was told beforehand of my father's remarriage, there I was, having dinner with my new mother and sister. I couldn't help but feel—possessive. What if she's only lovely because my father's the emperor? What if she's only for the wealth? What if she's really mean? What if—there were a lot of 'what ifs' running through my mind.
"Ah, Sherrine, dear!" my reminiscing stopped, and my eyes wandered about the room until it stopped at my stepsister's periwinkle-hued gown that fitted her perfectly shaped body. I was just a month or so older than her, but she was a tad taller and slimmer than I ever would be. She's slender with not much muscle—or fat—in her body. Not that she's all bones and skin but compared to me, she was—skinnier. I love how I have wide hips and a full bust, but… somehow, I sometimes found myself thinking how I wish I had her body. "How are you enjoying your first ball?" my father asked when she was within reach.
"Good evening," she curtsied in front of me, to which I returned the greeting. "It was… fancier than I thought." She answered timidly.
"There will be a lot more of this in the future, so I hope you'd get used to it. Though the crowd could sometimes be nauseous and overwhelming, it's fun once you get used to it, isn't it, Ruth?" I said, looking past Sherrine's shoulder to ask my approaching lady-in-waiting a nod or two.
"Yes, Princess." Ruth nodded and covered my shoulder with the fur shawl she had with her. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Emperor Octavian, Sun of the Empire, Empress Olivia, Moon of the Empire, and Lady Sherrine, but it's late, and the princess' schedule for tomorrow is unforgiving."
"But tonight's a special occasion. I'm pretty sure I can stay late tonight, can't I?" I turned to face my father, begging. He always had a weak spot for my pleading, fluttering eyes.
"Of course, my love, you can stay in la—"
"I'm sorry, your grace, but the Princess will take a bit of time before she finally fell asleep. It's already late, as it is. She would have to look presentable for tomorrow's meeting."
"Seems like Ruth is as strict as ever," my father smiled and gave Ruth a pat on the head.
Isabella Ruth Woodard, my lady-in-waiting since I was twelve, is the granddaughter of Prince Patrick, Murston Kingdom's second prince. She'd come in the palace often to play with me when we were little and even had the same governess. Since then, we became inseparable. Though she's nowhere near close to Pope, as he had been homeschooled his entire life, my father admires her being strict and level-headed even at a young age.
"Plus, the both of you have a prior engagement with King Ainsworth tomorrow. Yan—I mean, the Princess needs to finish all her lessons until the departure."
I lowered my head. Of all the things I want to be reminded of, the meeting with Maymont's king wasn't one of them. Matter-of-factly, I've been trying to run away from that.
"Ah, yes, yes. The meeting with Oswyn," my father paused for a minute before I felt his hand caged mine. "My love," he said, "You should go to bed now. We have an important meeting tomorrow."
"Yes, Father," I replied, down-cast, "Goodnight." I tipped my toe to kiss his cheek. "Mother, Lady Sherrine, good night." I kissed Olivia on the cheek and curtsied to my stepsister before I left with Ruth.
I wandered my eyes around to look for Pope, but he was nowhere to be found, so I submitted myself to Ruth and obediently followed her to my room.
"You didn't have to remind father about that meeting, you know." I nagged Ruth after I finished my shower.
"Would you like this off-shoulder nightgown or this long-sleeved one?" she replied, holding two of my options to choose from.
"I'm serious here. Come on. Help me out, please, Ruthie? I don't want to go to the meeting."
"You're already eighteen, Yanna. You need to take responsibility for the empire."
"But—" I stopped to wear the pastel pink long sleeve nightgown Ruth handed. "It's such an enormous responsibility. It even surprised you when I first told it to you."
"It's natural to be surprised, but as I've said, it's your obligation." I sat in front of my dresser and handed Ruth the brush, but I couldn't sit still, and the more I moved, the more painful my scalp became from the brushing.
"Did you tell him already?" and by him, I knew who she was referring to.
"Where would I even start to tell him?" I grabbed the brush from Ruth's hand and faced her. "I did suggest something, though."
"Oh? And?" she coaxed.
I shook my head and turned my back on her. If I told her, Ruth would scold me and tell me it was a dumb idea, and she'd repeat it to me until I admit it to myself. Even without her doing it, I realized how dumb and embarrassing I was. For me to stoop so low as to ask him myself to an away? But in truth, I was really disappointed; with Pope—with myself.
"You wouldn't know; he might be surprisingly into your favor tomorrow. He'll be there, right? With his brother?"
"Who?" my brows almost touched as I tried to recall who she was referring to.
"Ainsworth."
"Prince Pope!" I looked back at the owner of the deep, elderly voice that called me. "How's Reynold doing lately?"
"Ah, Uncle Yves, good evening. Father's doing great. He's actually on a business trip overseas, and I would bet he's sweet-talking some young lady by now."
He let out a hearty laugh and tapped my shoulders, "I'd bet that's exactly what he's doing right now. Good thing the queen regent, your mother, is ever so patient to your father."
"Mother's a personification of an ideal wife, though I've heard them fight over the same thing before. But she's been busy with the new prince and Princess to even bother about Father's shenanigans." I let out a short laugh here. Lord Charles Yves is the current ruling lord of one of the six towns surrounding Etolle and the nearest to our kingdom. Since they were young, he's been friends with my father, or so I've been told; they're hunting and fishing buddies.
"How's Edward doing? He's next in line, but with your father still kicking strong, he's stuck to being the crown prince." He placed his arm on my shoulder and guided me to the ballroom's balcony. "The King's wedding has been the talk of the empire for a while now. They didn't know how the new queen will affect his ruling, but it seems as if she's got a good head on her shoulders and knows how to put a leash on the king." I chuckled. I didn't expect Uncle Yves would use the word 'leash' above anything. "So, how's Edward? Lucky lad. His wife managed to bore a prince and a princess."
"The twins are adorable. I didn't know children could bring so much to the palace. Everyone seemed to love them. They're usually adored. They're almost one and starting to walk on their own. Althea's more aggressive than Theodore, though Theodore's a bit more on the caring side. He really knows how to take care of her twin sister."
"And how about you? With the twins and all?" I knew what Uncle meant, or so I thought.
"What about me, Uncle?"
"What do you think of Lady Olivia's daughter? Sherinne?" I didn't like where he was going with the topic at all. I knew everybody's thinking about it, but it never got on my nerves as much as it did now, not when Arianna asked me about eloping with her. What was she even thinking?
Homeschooled and the youngest prince to boot, I was aware the moment I sat in front of the emperor in his study when the Princess told him that he disapproves of us. The disappointment in his eyes was so visible I felt sorry for myself. But it pushed me to better myself—I went with my father overseas to learn some of our businesses; I've even closed some complicated deals and proved to be helpful. My brothers love me enough not to kill me over a bigger chance of claiming the crown—which was an ideal relationship to have. Over time, the emperor slowly accepted me, and I got to be with Arianna if I wanted.
I looked over to where Uncle Yves pointed and spotted Arianna's new stepsister, Sherrine, talking fondly to what seemed to me, her friends. I also noted how she looked confused if she should bow to people who greeted her or would simply wave her hand and smile. As a result, she usually gave a half bow, an awkward half-smile, and a timid wave.
"Well, she looks decent. And regal for someone who's not born in royalty."
"Watch the mouth, Pope. Though she's not royalty, she's still a baron's granddaughter—and now a princess."
"Hm… must be like a dream come true for her." was all I could respond. I couldn't grasp why Uncle Yves would ask me such a question knowing that the entire empire's aware of my strong relationship with the Princess.