Belle de Soir | H.S.

Prologue.

Eighteen years ago

Upon the grand Hairfair Hill, through copper leaves and thin branches, sits Atherton Castle. The ancient building has weathered through centuries of turmoil and war, keeping the royal family safe from all harm behind the large, stained windows and pointed, but carefully crafted arches. The cobblestoned driveway leads to the majestic building with luxury, antique cars parked near the entrance, and all those who ever visited would never forget the spectacular structure.

One academia, Lockridge North, received their invitation one day over ten years ago, after months of being waitlisted. Miss Maguire's year four class and their exceptional spelling bee results earned them a national title that peeked the director's interest. And a chance to gaze at a classical painting of Queen Marie III done by the famous painter, Edmund Mayer.

The class lined up to trail behind their illiberal teacher and her broad shoulders, easily frightened if they gave into their urge to step out of line. Their curious eyes browsed over the sundry items that decorate the halls, while their restless hands squirmed in their pockets.

"Hands off, Billy!" A sharp voice hissed from the the back of the line.

With good behavior and an excellent attendance record, Vegas Blacke had charmed Miss Maguire into earning the caboose position, and she wouldn't relinquish her authority for a troublemaker like Billy Preston. His ears rung at her scolding, and she hoped she never had to deal with his folly for the remaining portion of the trip. 

Their perky tour guide, Paula, led them down various hallways until they reached an eclectic corridor littered with treasured heirlooms and other relics that belonged to the royal family for generations. She waved her hand to quiet the mumbling children, so she could dive deep into its history.

"This hallway belongs to the Queen's late grandfather, King Ralph II. He was known for his collection of art pieces from around the world," Paula explained. "The Queen and her family have left it untouched, in fear that his legacy will be disturbed."

The students marveled at the different pieces, muttering to themselves about their clever discoveries. Some attempted to move closer to the gold and silver engraved items, but Vegas' hand would hook onto their collar and prevent them from making trouble.

"Now, we will head to our final destination: the King's Staircase."

Paula guided the children through one final archway before she gestured toward the enormous glass stained window at the end of the passage beyond the balcony. It depicted the first king of the royal lineage in all his glory. Two cream colored marble staircases were structured on either side of the railing, beautified with delicately placed bouquets that sat at the landing.

Vegas was fascinated by the architecture, and with a single touch to the flowers, she had broken several of Miss Maguire's golden rules that she fought to protect. Her eyes were fixated on the window's mosaic-like illustration, and how the light pierced through the glass like something she had never seen before. She would probably never rub elbows with the royal family in her life, but nevertheless, the rare sight was still burned into her memory.

Her closest confidant, Beatrice Gilles, suddenly tugged at her hand, pulling her back to their designated spot near their teacher.

"Vegas, you aren't supposed to touch that," She whined into her friend's ear as they turn to scurry back to the group. "I don't want you getting in trouble."

"Sorry, Bea. Everything is so pretty," Vegas apologized, before taking one last glimpse.

"Who told you that you could not touch?" A voice echoed through the massive space, bouncing off the stone walls through the darkness just past where the morning sunlight touched.

Nearly all the students pivoted to see where the voice beckoned from. Some juvenile minds thought it was God.

A young boy, most likely close to their age, descended the stairs gracefully. He was dressed in a sharply pressed shirt beneath an argyle-patterned Oxford sweater, and when he reached the bottom, Vegas could see his shiny, brown loafers.

His careful steps brought him to stand just a few feet from the curious child.

"Well?" The young boy asserted again.

Vegas was afraid of responding to him, in fear of Miss Maguire reprimanding her for such inappropriate behavior. She glanced over her shoulder at the adults, who surprisingly nudged her on in the matter. He impatiently waited for her answer.

"I thought it would be rude to touch something so pretty," Vegas replied, tilting her head to right in observance at the scenery behind him. "That's what my teacher told me."

"I am the prince, so you can touch it if you would like," The young boy proclaimed with a little too much air in his chest. "My family owns this entire palace."

"You are Prince Theodore?" Vegas remembered seeing something on tv about a young prince, but only when he tragically lost his parents two years ago. She had no idea he was around the same age. And very handsome, as her mother would say.

"Yes. I am Prince Theodore Andrew Atherton-Bishop, Duke of Cambridge." He felt inclined to impress her with his full title.

Almost immediately, her legs bent in a perfect curtesy like she was taught as her head lowered in admiration. She couldn't believe that she had gotten so close to royalty. Her mother wouldn't hear the end of it the moment she returned from school.

"I am pleased to meet you, Your Majesty," Vegas commented when she rose. "And I apologize for causing a fuss."

"There was no such thing." The prince chuckled at her nervous smile. "Your name?"

"Vegas Adele Blacke, Your Majesty." She felt the need to say her full name too.

"Vegas, I demand that...I see you again. I am the prince, so it will happen," He commanded, tucking his arms behind his back with dignity. "No objections."

The young girl giggled, her curls bouncing on her shoulders as she tilted her head forward in deep laughter at his oddly placed confidence. She was about to respond to his lofty demands, when another voice called to the young prince from the balcony. Soon after, Miss Maguire's wrinkled hand was placed on her shoulder with a disturbing grip. It was a call for both of their departures.

Vegas placed herself at the end of the line once more, a simper stretching across her face at Beatrice's playful wink. She had given up the childish thought that they would meet again, as he had so graciously claimed, but her pounding heart abruptly pulled her feet to stuttering halt.

Without haste, she nipped over to the young boy that lingered behind with his head still in the clouds from their first interaction. Upon her return, a grin danced across her lips in delight. He was shuttered by her angelic presence and couldn't speak a single word.

Her hands planted on his tense shoulders, while her lips pressed to the smooth surface of his. It was a childish peck, that was incredibly quick and unorganized, but their hearts quaked in innocence beneath their clothing. Vegas pulled back, her fluttering lashes to reveal a pair of nervous eyes aimed at his reaction. The young prince stood frozen.

"I hope we meet again, Your Majesty," She whispered, backing up from his still frame to sprint off to her class. Vegas waved, but she wasn't sure if her goodbye had gotten through to the traumatized prince. Another snicker left her mouth.

Of course, they had no idea that their futures would forever be intertwined.