Song of the Moonlight

Hidden at the base of the left magnolia tree is a wooden chest covered in dirt and dust. Julien blows on the surface, revealing a gold-plated iron chest. He snatches a key from his necklace and opens the compartment. A flute and a harp—utterly clean and new—were inside.

"These belonged to my grandfather and my grandmother," Julien retrieves them both from the small compartment. "The harp is one of the symbols of our family. My grandfather carved this himself from the trunk of a giant tree that grew at the heart of the Capital. With the instrument, he used to gallivant as a prince, singing songs love and fervor in his youth. Oftentimes he would get in trouble with the king and the royal staff."

"He sounds like a free soul," Gianni walks toward him. He touches the smooth surface of the harp's arch. "This is well-carved."

"My grandfather became the Bard Prince, later the Bard King. It was during his rule in Gallia that the arts and sciences flourished. He poured the kingdom's coffers into pursuits that would improve the citizen's life," Julien plucks the strings of the harp. The sound is crystal clear with a clean resonating pitch. "This is the sound that made my grandmother's heart bloom deeply. The flute symbolizes the south's ruling family of the Grandiflora domain. Their wealth rivaled the crown, but their influence continuously diminished after years of neglect and personal lavishness. My grandmother changed all that.

"Instead of dresses and dances, she immersed herself in literature, in books, in the art of strategy. My dad used to tell me that grandmother would advise her to pursue a woman whose brain is more excellent than her beauty.

"But Queen Sophia is both exquisite and intelligent," Gianni remarks subtly, smirking, "your father chose a woman whose intellect rivals her beauty."

"My mother would grant you unimaginable riches if she heard that," Julien sits on the base of the magnolia tree beside the dusty chest. "Here," he pats a patch of grass, signaling Gianni to sit with him. Gianni does and rests his head on Julien's left shoulder.

The sound of crickets and the hums of the grass as the wind collides on their gentle blades perpetuates under the soft touch of the half-moon moonlight. The sky is a perfect balance of darkness and starlight—an intricate dance ruined by time. For a second, Gianni and Julien forget the chaos, the conflict, the perplexity of the situation they put themselves in.

A cold, gentle dab of an icy gale makes Gianni squirm closer to Julien. Julien encircles him with her left arm pulling him closer. Gianni's head rests easily on Julien's left chest. He could hear his stable heartbeat—rhythmically pulchritude, feel his steady breathing—relaxed and laidback. The stiff muscles on his chest felt comfortable against Gianni's head.

"Can we stay like this for all eternity?" Julien sighs. Gianni looks at him—his gaze piercing Julien's eyes. His eyes no longer looked confused—confident and resolute—as if he had made up his mind.

"Thank you," he says after a brief pause, "I'm no longer afraid of the world, of my father, of everything."

Julien nudges his head closer to Gianni's forehead. A light, moist warmth glides over Gianni's forehead—touching gently—enough to isolate him from the chilly night. Plucking on the harp strings, Julien begins to sing a ballad.

What does the wind say to the little grebes?

Little birds, I'll be the wind under you,

Take flight, spread your wings, I'll take you places.

To freedom go, I will follow you.

Under the moonlight, where yellow buds cry,

Sing a song of happiness while you fly.

Bathed in the light of the stars, love shall bloom

For they are witness eternal, sans doom.

Run away with me, a song of freedom

Am a fire—a bright light in the dark night.

And when you kiss me, fill me with sunlight

For I will be your shelter, your kingdom

Illusions of fame and grandeur are nought

All you need is serenity and love

Riches and jewels your title has brought

Are but dust to our passion as we move.

What does the wind say to the little grebes?

Take flight, spread your wings, I'll take you places.

Little birds, I'll be the wind under you,

To freedom go, I will follow you.

As Julien stops, the four torches at the edges of the pond burn ambers. The chilly evening breeze blows savagely as the night deepens. Julien can feel Gianni sleeping soundly in his arms. The minute motions he makes in deep slumber make Julien smile. The high-pitched soft gasp he makes while exhaling, the constant movement of his breathing, his hand around Julien's waist seeking his warmth.

"We should head back," Julien taps Gianni awake, whispering almost a sigh. "It's late."