Prince Charming

"Sorry, what?" I tilted my head to indicate I may have misheard.

"Oh no, the lady heard right," Leila reassured me. "Rather, it's an infamous story here, I am surprised you do not know about it." She abruptly turned all serious, as if she was telling a horror story above a well-lit campfire. I hope she didn't forget it was bright daylight and we were in the open. "You see, His Highness, the crown prince, was known as the Prince Who Never Smiles. Since his birth, no one has ever caught his lips curl upward, let alone him feeling joyful."

"It's kind of hot, honestly," the youngest girl commented.

"Miss May, now really is not the time for that," Leila said. "You don't hear about him anymore, but originally, there was a second prince, his name was Herea." As Leila dropped the name, the youthful girls stared at her in panic. They broke out into cold sweat, holding the seams of their dresses while remaining petrified. Only Raya was in her own world, not even remotely listening. "As you see, even now the mere mention of his name strikes fear upon everyone."

"What's this? What happened?" I leaned forward.

"A few years ago, Herea's room burned down, leaving only ash. The prince perished within. It was a sudden tragedy, one that no one knew how to deal with. The funeral procession went swiftly, letting the entire nation mourn." Leila bit her lips. "Herea was a well-beloved prince. He had that pure air of nobility around him that made others admire him. Still, he was benevolent. Rumor has it that he had planned to amass supporters and steadily gain a voice in the palace. However, he never wanted the throne; Only to be heard. Herea really supported the crown prince, seeing him as his only family. If I remember correctly, one thing he always liked to do was try to make the crown prince laugh—to no avail though. Thus, at his funeral, everyone bawled their eyes out. It was raining that day because maybe even God lamented the loss of that man."

The girls all nodded. Affirmative. They waited for me to react, so I only let out a, "Wow," to let the story take its pace.

"However amidst all that, His Highness, the crown prince, let out a smile. For the first time in his life, while watching his brother return to earth, he felt joy." Leila shuddered. "I remember what he said: 'We royalty are born perfect. We need no emotion, no support, no family. Herea, he was not fit for the role.' After that, he never smiled again. The name Herea had been scrubbed off the annals, his only existence living in the memory of the witnesses and that missing number between Edward and Allard the crown prince."

"But you never saw him kill his brother right?"

"He practically admitted it! I hear he was scheduled for judgment, but His Majesty dealt with it privately, thus it never came to light. And I don't think that was his first or last offense—just the heaviest one." Leila commented. "You never know what he is thinking, worse still, you can't ask him about his thoughts either unless you wish to die. He's impossible to approach."

"Oh, but I might very well do that, who knows, maybe my charms will melt his heavy heart," I joked and the ladies giggled in response.

The youngest girl chimed in again, "Right? You just can't help but think that just maybe you might be the one to change him."

Her friend reacted. "Isn't it kind of elegant how cold he is? I think someone with the gentility of a proper lady would fit him well. But it almost makes you want to try it yourself."

Leila shrugged in defeat. "I guess no woman can resist the idea of being Queen. And his personality might just be the spice added to the stale lifestyle that sometimes comes with it. Seen from that perspective, he may really be the best choice."

The girls returned to lighthearted chatter, dismissing the heavy mood. From a glance, they would appear as graceful ladies, delicate, evanescent, and a splendor fitting the youthful age. The sunshine gleamed off their bright attire, illuminating the gazebo faintly. Their faint laughter, the singing birds, and the smell of the finest flowers created a picturesque safe-haven—though the illusion would shatter if one beheld the conversation and listened close for the topic at hand.

Our talk continued for a long time. Mostly, it was about boys and jewelry, though occasionally, they talked about more interesting stuff, such as the culture and gossip of the people residing in this land. One after another, as the sun continued moving west, the girls left, either voluntarily excusing themselves or being shipped away by their servants. In the end, only Leila remained, asking me questions about my personal life which I was happy to answer. Leila, as the last to go, excused herself by curtsying. She appeared taller when standing, mostly due to her long legs, but she also carried herself straight and with dignity.

After a while, when even she disappeared, Raya and I were left alone.

I always believed that partings never happened in one instance, but rather as a compact short story. They were fluid, beginning from only the mere thought of leaving, like small bubbles surfacing out the vast ocean, one may not even realize they existed. By the time one leaned forward and felt their legs twitch, it was time to go. Yet, it was not until exchanging last pleasantries by the doorstep, cutting the last lining of the conversation, giving one last hug, that they were truly gone. And only when you stood silent in the room—it would always feel much bigger with fewer people—did you realize they had disappeared.

I'd feel the sting of such parting much more, not because of the people that left but rather those I was left with. There are certain times in life where the quiet can be comfortable, peaceful, or even enjoyable with someone. For me and Raya, this was no such time.

As the idiom said, the silence between us was deafening—as in, I felt my heart beat vigorously, waiting for a reaction of hers; Whether it was good or not. Her hands stopped and her eyes fell upon me; Within her iris, there was a glimmer.

"I think I want to be a judge," Raya said. Her voice quivered in uncertainty, but there was also a rare conviction within, telling me she had made up her mind.

"Huh?"

She looked at me. "What's wrong?"

I held my face. "Nothing. I just did not expect these words to come after your long brooding," I told her. "In fact, I thought you'd have come to an ultimatum on the two of us."

"I think too quick of a decision would be very impulsive." She reached for the teacup and at last decided to take a sip, though she instantly placed it back, complaining about how the earl grey had gone cold. "I mean, what kind of person builds their plans only on random outbursts of emotions?"

". . . Yes, indeed, that sounds like a dumb move to make." I laughed awkwardly. "Still, not to crush your dreams, but don't you think becoming a judge is just as impulsive?"

"Why?"

"Hmm. How should I say." I rubbed my head and started fidgeting. "I mean, I partially understand where you are coming from. I suppose the lady got into your head. But I think when she said 'meet a judge', it wasn't actually career advice. Can't you just schedule an appointment, talk about your feelings, braid each other's hair, and we all move on? Why all the hassle?" In the background, I heard the distinct chirping of a bird. The wind rustled gently, shaking the leaves.

"What do you mean," Raya asked me in slight confusion. "It really doesn't take much to become one, you know? At most, I'd be done in around a week. Yes, it's long in comparison to jobs that start the moment you get there, but for one of the most distinguishable professions a nobleman can take, I think it is adequate?"

Her info surprised me. I stared her down, dubious of her knowledge. "7 days? That's it? You're telling me you people get the right to dictate over others' lives in only one week? Are you God creating the universe?"

Raya looked at me, paused, then looked down. She twirled her thumbs (an action she loved doing when deep in thought). Though the desk between us hid her feet, I was sure they were swaying just as restlessly. "No, it's not such a haphazard occupation. I'm not saying anyone can manage, but I feel that I could. Shouldn't you know that, Agnes? A judge holds similar values to a noble so it is highly recommended for boys to take on that job. It teaches them compassion, justice, and benevolence; However, that doesn't mean it's barred for girls. After all, you only have to pass the final exam." She rambled on, scrambling for words, and threw them out hoping any would stick. "Thanks to His majesty striving for equality, nothing is prohibited for women—I mean, you even are the first female Archduke—it is just that such a novel mindset is still hard for many to swallow. I realize His Majesty's ambitions seem far-fetched; How could we humans possibly be equal? Yet, I too am a Granddaughter of a Duke, I have my own pride in my abilities." She stopped fretting for words and gathered her hands into clenched fists. Her short black hair glistened in the sunlight.

I crossed my fingers and asked her seriously, "Is this something you really wish to do, or is it just a whim?"

"I'm not quite sure," she answered me full of honesty. Her voice did not waver. "However, that lady is right, if I learned what it means to 'judge', I might even be able to judge the heaviness in my heart. Also, I feel like having a similar accomplishment would make me just a little closer to you. The first female judge." She stuck her chest out and faced me without averting her eyes; I could feel the conviction oozing out of her.

Conviction, was it? That girl—I tend to forget—had a lot of conviction. Ever since I arrived at the D'Anele mansion . . . no, even before that, she had relentlessly pursued me. Though she was clumsy and stumbled a lot, she tried, and here she arrived, breaking one shackle at a time. "I understand. Go for it."

"What?" Raya shrank back, looking at me with extreme caution (eyebrows scrunched up, lips pursing, and many other tell-tale signs of someone feeling they were being scammed); She even lifted both her arms up to block her face. ". . . Really?"

"Why are you going into defense-position?" I brought my palm to my face. "This isn't a command. I'm being genuine here. Am I that scary?"

She nodded unabashedly. "Yes." Her arms remained up. "I was sure you would hate the idea of me being a judge since you kinda give off the aura of someone who always gets entangled with them a lot."

Sharp eye, my friend. "Look, when someone tells me about their beliefs, I always like to joke around. You know, test them, just to see if they break, to see if they get tempted by me. No worries, it's only for fun."

". . . That's not something you do for fun."

"Yet even I do not have a right to tell you your way of life. Walk your own path. We don't know what constitutes life, yet we have no choice but to march onward. It was designed for failure. Walk, fail, persist—be selfish. It is your life, so do what you want with it. You think I'm gonna drop you just because of this; When you are so convenient to have around? No matter what you want, I'm here to support you."

Raya exhaled her breath, relieved. Her face turned into a smile. "Thank y—ah!" she shoved the remaining words back into her mouth. She fumbled around, and with a blush, she pointed at me. "Ehm, don't expect a thanks or anything, this was originally your fault!" The girl puffed her cheeks in defiance. How lively; As she should be.

The doubts in her heart seeded by Edward had been uprooted. But that only meant we returned to the beginning, the beginning of her pursuit for me, a thin thread that had been snapped, but now sewn back together just a little stronger. Geez, what a piece of work that girl was. Still, that's why she was all the more worth keeping around.

I jumped forward, pulling her into my arms. "Aw, you're just so adorbs~."

"Hey don't stick so close to me!" She pushed my face away, full force. "Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down; I really do hate you!"

My ghost observed us from afar. "Sᴏ? Wʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʟ, ᴛᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Mᴀᴅᴀᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏғғᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʜᴀᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ—ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs?"

"Of course not. I'm not Nostradamus," I whispered. "But suppose you place your bet on both sides—in the end, no matter the outcome, wouldn't you still win? A plan always needs to have contingencies after all."

"Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ?" Agnes smiled in defeat. "Hᴏᴡ ᴠɪʟᴇ."