The distant sound of playful chatter could be heard through the large oak door. However, Bastiaan stood next to you, looking quite uneasy. You noticed that he had stuffed his hands into the depths of his blazer's pockets, as his eyes stayed glued to the door.
The words from the opposite side of the door were muffled, yet you knew that this situation may end poorly. You were now quite close to Bastiaan, despite your wishes for a professional relationship between the two of you. Bastiaan's outbursts of emotion were concerning to you, as you had never witnessed him behaving in such a way before. Anybody could tell just from the look in Bastiaan's once void and dreary eyes that he was concerned as well.
The incident didn't make Bastiaan opening up any more likely to happen, especially now that he was seeing what his emotions could do. The air hung painfully cold in the air, and your muscles felt stiff. Posture glued upright, you barely move an inch from your initial spot. The decorative wallpaper and surroundings of this hallway could not distract you, and even the guards seemed to have an aura of negativity surrounding them.
You open your mouth as your eyes look at Bastiaan's side profile, his eyelashes gently fluttering more than usual. You attempted to speak words of comfort, yet nothing seemed to come to mind. You simply closed your lips once again into a firm line and looked towards the door. The muffled voices from the opposite side had now died down.
A lifetime seemed to pass by just standing there next to Bastiaan, so still that the two of you could have been mistaken for statues in the middle of a calm storm. Bastiaan's voice gravelly spoke out at last, breaking the string of silence harshly: "I have thought things over with my father and we have agreed it would be best for me and Amery to spend more time with each other before deciding upon marriage."
You look at him, and your eyes meet for a split moment before his darting orb that was once at the corner of his eye snaps to the door, as though ashamed to look at you. "If that is what's best for you then why do you have such a grave expression on your face?"
"My father-"
Bastiaan is cut off by the guard gesturing over to him, then opening the door slowly. He takes in a deep breath and advances through the door, his foot just stepping in as he reads the room. In his father's study, were Princess Amery Smith's mother and father, sat up straight with their eyes pinned eagerly on the young man before them, right at his father's desk.
Amery's mother in particular sat up tall and proud, a radiant grin breaking onto her lips whilst her husband gently rubbed her back in a means to calm her down, sat next to her. There was a hopeful sea in his eyes as he somehow managed to keep his composure. In the meantime, Bastiaan's father was sat gravely at his desk, eyes sternly pinned on Bastiaan, cautious of his son's antics.
Amery's father takes note of this and his eyes focus even harder on Bastiaan. He bites his lip, and speaks in a graceful voice: "Thank you, Prince Bastiaan. We appreciate the advancement of this relationship with our daughter. We look forward to seeing how things progress."
His wife's smile finally subsides as she builds upon his statements: "My daughter is absent from this meeting as she has some matters to attend to at the 'International Affairs' office but I assure you that she is overjoyed." She beams, the joy evident in her voice.
"We have agreed that Bastiaan shall court Princess Amery until they come to a mutual agreement to proceed with a royal engagement," The King says to them.
Amery's father replies, speaking gently to the King: "I will see to it that Princess Amery remains here for longer until they can decide whether to go forward with their relationship or not."
"Spectacular, of course we will arrange quarters and ladies here to take care of your daughter," The King offers. He was not particularly happy for Bastiaan to be with the Royal Smith family, considering that their kingdom was incredibly weak. However, he had confidence that his son had the potential to build their kingdom into something far greater due to their wide abundance of useful resources.
"We shall prepare a dowry for her," Amery's father responds, revealing a smile on his lips.
Bastiaan's eyes widened slightly as his heart began to rush. Not from love, or excitement for the future - but fear. He had a service to his country that he knew he had to fulfil. His father was not one to beat around the bush though, and would often throw him into situations he would much rather prefer to not be in - such as now. Usually, Bastiaan would not care but for once he felt such a strong feeling of resentment rise in his heart. He yearned for something else.
As their fathers continue to converse, Bastiaan's eyes slowly trail over to you and he feels his posture ease. Ever since you had come, things had changed for him. And then, his eyes widened further, as he realised that you were the source of this problem. Were you really the reason he was beginning to lose control of himself?
"Prince Bastiaan, please look after my daughter. We shall be leaving later today," Amery's father speaks out, breaking his train of thought.
"Of course," He replies as they both stand up, dressed in luxurious velvet and promptly leave the room.
"You better behave yourself. What in the world has gotten into you?" The King inquires, voice more tired than angry.
"I only wish to humour this for slightly longer," Bastiaan replies truthfully, taking his hands out of his pockets to be nipped at by the cold cruel air.
"You're lucky that they give you a chance, with the way you've been acting they should have thought you're a mad man," The King responds.
"I apologise for the trouble," Bastiaan says timidly, not daring to speak up to his father at a time like this.
"You really do keep causing trouble. So, to keep you out of trouble, I am appointing a knight to your side. He will be supervising your behaviour and following you practically everywhere you go to ensure that you remain in check. He will only leave your side after you are married. Understood?"
Bastiaan holds his own hand, squeezing it tightly as his father speaks. "So be it," He grumbles.
"You'll have to deal with it, boy. Now get out and go to your bedroom, the knight will be there soon."
Bastiaan takes a sharp mistake of breath before spinning on his heel and opening the door, swiftly leaving his father's office. He nearly forgets that you were still there, and walks past you before slowing down and looking over his shoulder. Your eyes meet and you jump, immediately going to his side. Bastiaan sticks out his arm, inclining you to link your own with his. He needed the comfort at the moment, and you didn't dare complain. Even if you weren't sure if Bastiaan would consider you close enough to be a friend, you still wanted to be there for him. It seemed that he hadn't had anybody be there for him for a long time.
"My father is appointing a knight to watch over me. I implore you not to take any notice of this knight," Bastiaan explains to you.
"I see. I'll try my best not to, but that's not what I'm concerned about. Are you alright, Bastiaan?"
"Don't ask me that. I am perfectly fine."
You purse your lips and continue walking alongside him. His harsh words incline him to stride with false pride, making it more difficult for you to keep up with him once again.
"I'd like a few moments alone in my bedroom, please," Bastiaan suggests to you, rather than speaking in a more imperative tone like he usually would.
"Of course," You confirm as his arm unlinks with yours and he drifts ahead of you, disappearing into the familiar door of his private quarters. You stay standing at the front, deciding that it would be best if you left him alone for now. Turning around, your back gently pressed against the hard wooden door, which was colossal compared to you. You noticed there were fewer guards at the moment, with barely any being in this particular hallway despite the fact somebody of high status resided here.
Bastiaan walks to his bed, which is still in disarray. Only a single cotton pillow was left on his bed, while the rest had been scattered throughout the dimly lit room, as the thick clouds barely let the sunlight peak through, creating a grey light. His sheets were in a fix, as well as most of the belongings in his room. He couldn't quite process what he had done.
He hunches over, sits on the edge of the mattress. He dug his countenance into the palms of his hand, the sweet smell of the wax in his hair beginning to wear off. He wanted to tell the truth but of course, his father would never allow that. Rather, only you would at least hear him out.
He feels the freezing air pinch him, and the screeching of the silence pierces violently into his ears. Only now he raised his head slightly, to clasp over his ears, trying to block out the silence of his room, the ringing that just wouldn't stop.
After a few moments of fighting with himself, he settles, looking out the window at the grey clouds which had been watching over him ever since he was just a young boy. Any further views were blocked by the palace wall, which shielded his sights from the outside world. Being in this palace was like a reminder - a reminder of his loss, his pain and his suffering. Nothing good had ever come out of this palace. The death of the only woman he had cared for.
At last, he sits up straight, regaining his composure with a false sense of pride, the same facade from when you first met the young man. He was determined this time not to let his emotions control him. He was determined to be perfect.
Everybody's expectations from him that locked him in this present for as long as he could remember was all that he would consider his aims. And yet, as Bastiaan sat up straight, his dark orbs reflecting the cloudy skies - he came to a realisation that he could never be the same as before. He was now in fact a different person, who had grown from who he once was.
Before, he had only lived for the pleasure and greed of others. He had only lived to satisfy other people's expectations. And yet now, there was something that he knew for sure that he wanted so desperately. At last, there was something that he himself needed, not what others did. This came from the source of his own love, a small seed which had now bloomed and had been growing all this time within him, as though building up just to this realisation.
For once, he realised that he needed to become completely independent at last. Things would never be the same as they were. And rather, was this agreement to court Amery an awakening of his true feelings?
In classic fashion, his thoughts are choked off by a knock on the door and several mumbles, your voice being the most prevalent, as though arguing with whoever was alongside you on the opposite side. Rapidly jumping up from his seat, he promptly pulls the door to his bedroom opening, revealing somebody he did not quite expect.
In front of him stood Florian, dressed in a unique uniform yet specially tailored for a knight. He wore light metal armour, the only piece missing being his helmet, therefore revealing his identity. The uniform gleamed with a sense of newness and was unique compared to the uniforms of the other guards due to the silver leaves and flowers on the metal plates, and the ivory and red fabric that added some fantastic detail yet was also worn underneath.
The young man's light, dreamy hair seemed to radiate a new source of sunlight, as though brightening Bastiaan's room just from the opening of the door. As he opened his eyes that pierced into Bastiaan's own orbs, they conflicted with one another in tone and soul.
His pale skin was disturbed by light and rosy pink, dusted onto his lips and the apples of his cheeks from the cold. If anything, he looked as though he had just come from a painting, and looked much more tidy than he was the last time Bastiaan saw him.
"Prince Bastiaan, it is my honour to serve you as your appointed knight," He announces regally, getting onto one knee and bowing his head gratefully at the opportunity. Florian was bursting with joy, as he knew this opportunity would allow him to spend more time with you and with a more than feasible excuse at that. He continues to speak with a smile: "I am Viscount Florian Von Faustus, a military commander who is now gratefully serving you. I have seen many victories on the battlefield, and have accepted this new position with gracefulness. I look forward to working with you, Your Royal Highness."
"You have some nerve showing up here with a smile plastered on your face, Viscount Von Faustus," Bastiaan declares, immediately returning to his stubborn attitude. He crosses his arms and stares judgementally at the young man knelt below him, who now raised his head to stand up straight once again.
You stand behind Florian, a somewhat apologetic look on your face for Bastiaan. This was possibly the worst person that the King could have appointed as Bastiaan's knight, and yet, here he was. You knew that Bastiaan would barely let the two of you converse, so you possibly getting the answers you wanted for your past seemed unlikely.
"Despite what happened at [Name]'s residence, let's work together peacefully nonetheless. It's not like you really have a choice-"
Bastiaan immediately cuts off Florian: "Who are you to say whether or not I have a choice? You're already on my bad side so you better watch yourself, 'military commander'."
"It's your father's words, Your Highness. So, what's on the schedule for today?" Florian asks chirpily.
"You shouldn't be looking so chipper. Not to mention, you're wearing ivory. [Name] and I are wearing black, as you should be too. I don't mind though, it only means that we match together better than you could with her," Bastiaan says, making an unnecessary comment to Florian, who genuinely looked slightly hurt.
Florian looks to Bastiaan then to you. You were wearing a plain, pitch-black and long-sleeved dress that stopped right above the knee, with flats to match neatly. And Bastiaan, well, was wearing a suit of black as per usual. Florian decides to stand up for himself, not wanting to look as though he was a lesser man in any way: "Well, this is my uniform and I must wear it so that I am prepared to protect you at any given moment, whether it be from others or," Florian pauses and glares at Bastiaan, "From yourself."
"Don't be giving your Prince such a look, Viscount Von Faustus. All the more, you're also wearing red, which is typically a colour of celebration. Surely you could have at least changed the clothes underneath?" Bastiaan smirks slightly, not allowing the young knight to win their argument. "Anyways, I ought to go to my office. Just because of this situation we're in doesn't mean that I have any less work to do. Shall we, [Name]?" He asks, extending his arm.
You knew perfectly well that he wished to link arms with you, and in front of Florian at that. You looked at him with uncertainty, as his eyes seemed to command you with their warning gleam. "Prince Bastiaan-"
"[Name]," Bastiaan cuts you off, firmly stating your name. You gulp slightly at look at Florian's confused gaze from the corner of your eye, which looked as though he felt betrayed as you link your arm with Bastiaan's one.
"Is it appropriate for you to link arms with a handmaiden when you are meant to be courting Amery?" Florian speaks up, deciding to speak for you since you wouldn't speak for yourself, and also due to the growing jealousy within him.
"I am not marrying for love, and at the moment I'm not engaged to anybody," Bastiaan replies only linking his arm more snugly with yours, tugging you closer to his frame as he begins to walk ahead, not caring much about whether or not Florian would follow.
Knowing it was his duty, Florian tails after the two of you, feeling the urge to break in between your two bodies in an effort to separate you both from one another. You didn't complain, as you noticed that Bastiaan was beginning to be more comfortable once again and was acting like his usual self, compared to before when he was so silent and dismissive.
"When I work in my study, you must be still and silent, Visocunt Von Faustus. I would also prefer it if you remained outside, your presence is such a bother it would distract me," Bastiaan says sharply, dragging you along with him.
"Then [Name] has to stay outside as well! If not, I should be inside. I have to watch over you, I shall not be treated like the average guard," Florian insists.
"It's a royal order, Viscount Von Faustus," Bastiaan responds through a smug smirk as he opens the door to his office and pushes you inside, with his foot just inside the room as he looks over his shoulder. "Stay outside the door."
"And it is also by royal order that I watch you make sure you don't do anything rash," Florian argues, grabbing the edge of the door and attempting to pry it open. However, his hand trembles as Bastiaan also grabs onto the door, pushing it shut against Florian. The two continue to try and overpower the other, the rivalry between the two young men quite evident.
"Why are you both arguing so much like little children? Bastiaan, just let him inside and pay him no mind. A knight's job is to protect after all, not to chat, so send him outside if he causes a fuss. How does that sound?" You suggest, trying to satisfy both of their wishes.
Bastiaan instantly lets go of the door at the sound of your voice, causing the door to swing open towards Florian due to the great force that the knight was pulling on it with, sending Florian onto his backside. Hearing the thump, Bastiaan could tell what had happened behind him without having to look. A victorious and childish gleam comes to cover his dark orbs as he responds to you: "If you insist, [Name]. As long as he behaves, I have no issue with it."
"You weren't saying that before!" Florian points out, standing up with the clanking of the metal uniform echoing throughout the halls. As all three of you now enter Prince Bastiaan's office, only now are you able to intake its beauty.
As expected, the office was made of wooden furniture painted black, with the grand desk in the middle in front of a matching leather seat, its back high and authoritative. On your left and right, the walls were full to the ceiling with books, presumably copies of his favourite novels. On the back wall was a window which had been concealed by an opaque, grey curtain. The only things that weren't black in this room were the carpet, which was instead a marvellous wine red, and this curtain that you had just noticed. Other than that, the room was surprisingly small and cosy, the lamp at his desk being made with stained glass, and its warm light illuminating most of the office.
Bastiaan takes his seat behind the desk as you take a look around the office, further examining its more ornate features. In the meantime, Florian stands in the centre of the right wall by the bookshelf, his posture formal and tense, unlike how you had seen him before.
Bastiaan presumably takes out some paperwork, along with a fountain pen from the inner pocket of his blazer. As he looks at the finely printed words, he halts his pen before the ink can form a puddle and disturb the plain white beauty of the parchment in front of him. Looking at the bookshelves, he bit his lip.
He gently shakes his head, so little that the movement is barely even noticeable. He stared intensely at the table, his dark eyes matching the black text written upon it. Usually, he could swiftly get on with his work, and yet, he couldn't seem to write. Forcing his pen to come into contact with the paper, it stays still, forming a growing black dot of ink on the paper as he tries to think of what to write.
"Is there a problem, Prince Bastiaan?" You ask, noticing that the prince had not yet started on his work, most likely due to how he was bothered by the situation his father recently.
He looks up at you, a wave of relief washing over him. A pitiful smile eases his features as he replies gracefully: "Not at all, [Name]."
Florian eyeballs the two of you like a hawk, and you can feel the daggers in your side just from his gaze. You look over to Florian and your eyes meet. You both jump slightly, you due to the fact he was looking at you so intensely, and Florian just from being unprepared. Just looking at you so directly did things to him, things he couldn't quite explain. His gaze immediately softens and a pink dusts his cheeks, a more timid look now on his face.
He yearned to speak words to you, yet was forbidden from doing so. Rather he mouths three words to you, which you couldn't quite make out. After these three words, the pink on his cheeks grows into a deep red and he looks away for a split second before ensuring that your eyes meet with his once again. You knit your brows together and tilt your head questioningly, indicating that you couldn't quite understand what he was trying to tell you.
He shook his head, gesturing you to forget whatever he was trying to say and to continue on with your business before Bastiaan could kick him out.
"Sit," Bastiaan speaks out of the blue, his eyes moving up to look at you once again, most likely referring to the seat behind you intended for guests.
"Oh! Of course," You say, hastily taking your seat. You place your hands on the edge of the desk, as you lean over slightly to watch Bastiaan writing.
He was less tense now, his muscles relaxed yet still he kept his royal composure. As one hand continued to scribble away a perfectly satisfying cursive onto the parchment, his other inching towards you.
You pause, noticing this movement. Before you could verbalise or object in any way shape or form, his hand smoothly clasps over your own, his pale thumb running over your [S/C] skin, the cold sensation of his skin against yours sending shivers up your spine.
It seemed as though he was looked to you as a physical form of comfort, and you didn't know how to react to this. Instead, you remained silent, not daring to turn your head towards Florian who you could already tell was glaring at the two of you in dismay once again.
"What is your favourite book, [Name]?" Bastiaan asks out of curiosity, his eyes meeting with yours again, showing a genuine interest in you.
"I can't quite decide when there are so many spectacular books out there with new novels of such greatness debuting every day. I guess I can't really speak on that matter though, considering I only have access to a few books."
"Don't you have access to a local library of sorts?"
"Yes, but there's a fee to be a member, and you have to be a member to take out books. I still go there every once in a while to read and spend the day there during the winter since they keep it warm inside," You answer.
"With your new salary, you should be able to afford a membership just fine, yes? Part of the money is in the process of being transferred at the moment, and the rest will be given to you after I'm married. Then after you attend my wedding, I'll also issue a fine bonus. Hopefully, something that can keep you living in adequate luxury until your older days," He says, eyes on the paper now and continuing to write elegantly.
"I don't need a bonus, Prince Bastiaan. I'll come to your wedding either way."
"I know, but I believe I owe you a bonus payment for all the trouble. I was actually wondering," He pauses, dropping down his pen now. "Even after the wedding, would you like to remain at the palace as a handmaiden? I'll pay you handsomely and can appoint you a higher position. Or a new position! You can be the royal fortune teller, and I'll tarot readings from you every week. That sounds splendid, does it not?"
"I'll have to think about it. I still very much love tending to my other clients as well, and even though I live in quite the miserable dump, it's a home that I've grown attached to nonetheless."
"I can always send a cab to pick you up every week," Bastiaan suggests a desperate and pitiful smile on his lips once again.
"You could," You trail off, thinking about it for a brief moment. "I'll have to give it more thought first. It's quite a lot that you're asking me, to move and all that. I get nervous around things that I'm not quite used to, and the palace is one of those things."
"But you're used to me, aren't you? And I'll be here. In fact, I'll allow you to come and busy me anytime you desire."
"Won't you be busy though? Being newly wedded and the new King of Ophnosleannade?"
"I can make time for you. I can always make time for you," Bastiaan insists, now squeezing your hand tenderly with reassurance.
"If you say so, Bastiaan."
"I know so, [Name] darling," He says, a kind smile on his lips as he returns to his work, one hand still over yours as though he was afraid to let you go. You remained as still as possible, as though mimicking a statue. There was still a sad look in his eyes but knowing that your presence could offer him some comfort brought great peace to your mind.
Status : Unedited
A/N: Thank you all who waited patiently for this chapter.