The Song of the World (nanowrimo13)

Chapter 1

Life was good for Song.

Soft music played in the background - music he had written just yesterday, in a fit of love and admiration for his girlfriend, who now snuggled beside him. He put an arm around her and she shifted a little closer. Her warmth was like fragrance, and he could feel the beginnings of a new song coming together in his head. He held on to it lightly - maybe he would use it for the testing tomorrow. It would be the best song he had ever written in his life - and then it would be the greatest gift he’d ever given to Beauty. He’d propose to her, with the one thing that finally secured his position in the Kingdom, and she would say yes, because then she’d be Queen Beauty. 

“What are you smiling at?” Beauty asked, interrupting his thoughts. She had pulled away and sat, her head cocked to the right, studying him.

Song smiled at her. She was indeed the most beautiful person he had ever seen. 

"Just thinking that I'm lucky to have you in my life," he said.

"Mmm," she agreed, leaning against him again. 

"Why did you choose me over everyone else?"

A strange look passed over her face. "Need you ask?"

"Because I'm so handsome and charismatic?"

"Really."

"What?"

"Whatever you say, Song." She sat up, stretching. "Aren't you going to practice for tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Confident, aren't you? Aren't you worried that you'll fail?"

"I can't. I won't."

"But what if you do?"

Song stopped smiling, a frown forming on his face. "Why so pessimistic? Do you want me to fail with all this talk? What if you jinx me?"

"I'm just asking," Beauty answered. She stared at her nails, glittery silver, avoiding his gaze. 

“Don’t worry, Beauty. I’ve trained hard for this. And I have the talent and the prophecy,” he almost added and you, but stopped himself. “What more do I need?”

She stood and walked towards the balcony. Song waited on the couch, but when she didn't say anything and didn’t return to him, he stood up and walked to where she was gazing out at the city below them. 

The lights of the city twinkled. Song could remember the first time he saw them almost ten years ago, when this room, this palace, this place seemed so big and huge and magical. Now it wasn't. It was just home. The stirrings of another new song played in his brain, and Song smiled wistfully. Home. 

He hadn't been home in a long time and his letters to his parents were often short scribbles of the random things he happened to be doing at the moment. There was not time enough to tell his parents all the things he had done and all the things he had learnt - not if he wanted to keep up the pace. They came to visit every year, and every year he felt the growing distance between them. His mother asked him the same questions over and over again, his father smiled a lot and reminded him that he was their pride and joy. But he turned more to Prince Bass, and even the King, for advice. 

Was the city home? Or was his idyllic hometown of Chai? Did it even really matter?

He asked Beauty and she shrugged. “Do you even remember Chai?” she asked instead.

“Barely. Just in childish dreams.”

“I hardly remember Caff at all. I was six when I came. My parents visit me every year, but who are they to me?”