Oliver was surprised by Fennel's request. When he took his hand earlier in the day, it was an instinctive and near-involuntary action in an attempt to provide comfort. He never expected to hold the feline's hand again, let alone be asked to do so.
With a warm smile, the bard nervously reached over, joining their hands together. The silver-earred man sighed when he felt the soft, smooth skin of the prince's touching his own.
It felt right holding Fennel's hand, but he couldn't allow his complicated emotions to get the best of him. They were worlds apart, and it was a world Oliver shouldn't attempt to delve into. There was no chance of him having the prince as his own, so he had to remain content being near him yet so far.
Hand holding was a simple gesture. It wouldn't cause an issue, he figured, especially if the royals desired it.
Fennel blushed and smiled softly. He tightened his hand around Oliver's and closed his eyes. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Fennel."
"I hope the funeral speech is fine," the copper-earred prince said. "I've been so nervous. I don't want to disappoint anyone, especially my mother, but it's my first public speech."
"It will be great, Fennel. Don't worry," Oliver assured him.
"What if I'm not good enough?"
"You are," the bard said, then added. "Trust me."
"I-it's hard," Fennel mumbled.
"I know," Oliver said, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin of the back of the other male's hand. "But we are here for you. Me, your mother, and everyone else who supports you."
"Thank you," the prince said, his cheeks darkening further.
"You're welcome." Oliver nodded, smiling.
The two sat in silence, enjoying each other's company. It was the calm before the storm, and they would enjoy it while they could.
Oliver was in a trance as he gazed at the prince seated next to him. He wondered how he would grow into his position as king. He would be a good king, even though he lacked experience. The bard could tell the prince had it in his heart to lead, even if it would take time to mature.
He would support the young man, even if he couldn't express the feelings he felt. He would support him until his dying breath.
Oliver smiled, watching the sun shine down on the feline's face. The way it shone down on him was a lovely sight to behold. It would be his luck if the person he became smitten with was someone so out of his league and a man, which was taboo to begin with throughout the entire kingdom.
"What?" Fennel asked when he caught the bard's gaze.
"You are beautiful," Oliver admitted, his smile brightening.
"Thank you," the copper-earred male blushed. "I... You are, too."
Oliver's ears warmed, and he looked down at their joined hands. "Thank you, Fennel."
The prince turned his head away. It was his turn to look at the ground. He was afraid that if he kept looking into those bright yellow eyes, his feelings would become clear. He couldn't admit or act on such feelings.
They remained silent. It was peaceful, yet both had a desire for more. Both were unaware of the yearning deep within each other's hearts.
They continued to be two dense felines.
It wasn't until they heard the bell ring and the nobles fled the garden that they broke the silence.
In a hurry, Fennel let go of Oliver's hand, much to the bard's disappointment.
He watched as the prince skillfully leapt over the shrubbery. He was mesmerized that the royal had such nimble movement. While he was able to move his own fingers skillfully against the strings of his lute, he had never been the most agile. In fact, he would often run into walls just walking around, let alone successfully jump over something.
With a sigh, Oliver brought himself to his feet. He wasn't looking forward to stumbling past the shrubs again.
Fennel frowned when he saw Oliver standing behind the shrubs. "Please hurry."
Oliver let out a deep sigh. He slowly climbed over the shrubs. When he went to walk toward the prince, he felt a sharp pain in his fluffy, white tail. He looked to see that his tail was caught in the greenery.
"What are you doing?" Fennel asked as he watched the bard tug on his tail.
"My tail is stuck."
"For goodness sake," Fennel groaned.
The prince walked back and looked into the shrub. He saw the white tail tangled against something. He reached out and used a gentle touch to free the bard.
Oliver shivered when he felt Fennel's hands on his tail. It was sensitive. He wished it wasn't a sensitive area.
"A-Ah, t-thanks, Oliver stammered out.
Oliver could die. His body reacted to the sensation. He was thankful for the loose robes that were given out for the funeral.
He followed the prince to the throne room. They stepped inside, and his yellow eyes scanned the room. It was crowded. He couldn't believe the large number of nobles had gathered there for the service.
Near the throne, the casket that contained the king's remains was on display. One-by-one, the nobles lined up to give their respect to the late king.
The bard glanced over to Fennel, who had a somber expression. Out of everyone gathered in the room, the prince was the one Oliver felt the worst for. Not only did he lose his father, but he would be required to lead an entire kingdom.
He couldn't imagine what a weight a responsibility so grand could have on someone. He internally vowed to assist in any way he could, even if it were just to provide comfort, as it seemed Fennel was resistant to speaking to anyone but him regarding his turmoil.
In a way, Oliver felt blessed to be the one the future king felt comfortable enough to lean on. They had known each other for a short time, but they had already become friends.
It was all he could ask for. Friends. The king would be the bard's friend.
That's all it could be.
Oliver felt a tap on his shoulder.
When he looked behind him, he saw the princess from before, Callie. He wondered what she wanted from him. She had no reason to try to get his attention.
"Your highness?" Oliver asked as he turned to face her.
"You're the new court bard, correct?" She asked him with a smile.
"You are correct," Oliver replied.
Fennel looked over, furrowing his brows, when he saw Callie. He had already rejected her, so he knew exactly why the princess was speaking to the bard.
"Why do you reak of desperation?" Fennel boldly asked.
Callie's eyes widened. "How dare you speak to me in such an impolite manner?"
"You're the one clawing at any man you think may give you an ounce of attention," Fennel retorted. "Do you not realize how unappealing of a sight it is to see a woman esentially begging for a husband?"
Oliver was impressed. He didn't realize the prince, who seemed so timid, had it in him to speak in such a manner. It was the first time he had witnessed Fennel be anything but polite.
"You're just mad because you have no experience," Callie scoffed. "I'll be the queen soon. I don't have time to waste on an immature man. I can find a different future king who would gladly take my hand. You have poor decision-making skills already. I could offer so much."
"But you have time to waste on a lowborn bard who can't offer you anything but a few songs?"
"He is a much better choice than you, Fennel," Callie said, rolling her eyes.
"I will be the next king; I have nothing to gain or lose from a fling with a bard," Fennel replied. "You would risk the reputation of your entire family just because you are desperate?"
"F-fine!" Callie snapped.
She turned away from them, her long ears flicking and her tail tucked between her knees.
"You didn't have to speak like that to her," Oliver told the feline.
"Yes, I did," Fennel replied. "We are not interested in each other. Why can't she understand that? I will never extend the offer to a woman like her to help lead this kingdom."
"I'm not sure," Oliver replied. "Maybe you were too harsh."
"I was blunt," Fennel corrected.
"Why don't you want to pursue her?"
"I just don't," Fennel said, shaking his head.
"Why? She seems serious about becoming a queen. Won't it be better than asking a stranger at the ball?"
"Because... she's not... not my type," Fennel replied with a small sigh.
"Not your type?" Oliver chuckled. "I suppose I could see why. She is a bit haughty."
"Yeah," Fennel nodded. "Her personality leaves a lot to be desired."
"I guess, if that is the case," Oliver shrugged.
"I wouldn't want to marry someone who doesn't respect my decisions," Fennel told the bard. "It's bad enough; I need to find a wife. She would be my last pick. She doesn't respect anyone."
"Maybe she just wants access to royal jewels," Oliver suggested.
"She probably does," the prince said. "She would be the type."
The room suddenly grew silent, and all eyes fixed on Queen Anise, who approached the throne. She took her position next to a podium the staff had set up for memory speeches.
Fennel's eyes widened again. "I have to go, sorry, Oliver."
Oliver watched as the prince weaved through the crowd, joining his mother up front.
It was a solemn occasion, but all the bard could focus on was the way Fennel suddenly looked regal as he was by his mother's side, combined with the way he had spoken to the foreign princess.
It really sunk in that he had fallen for the future king. It was hard to believe the feline he had met on the hill would rule over them, but it was the truth, and the bard couldn't run or hide from the truth.