The Gift of Song

Fennel opened his eyes, settling his gaze on Oliver. The silver-haired feline still had his eyes shut when the prince looked toward him.

It gave the royal feline an opportunity to appreciate the bard's features. He didn't need to worry about being caught appreciating the man's beauty. The thought of the other catching his stare caused his cheeks to subtly flush.

He wished to touch skin, to feel those lips against his fingertips, but it was a pipe dream. 

Fennel would have to be satisfied to touch the hand that still held tightly onto his own. At least he was able to achieve some level of physical contact. 

If his day wasn't going to circulate around the funeral, Fennel would have spent more time lying on the mattress, just gripping onto the warm hand, but the kingdom required his presence.

Queen Anise's displeasure was something he didn't wish for on that particular day. Fennel realized she had been silently grieving the king's passing.

"Oliver?" Fennel whispered after several minutes passed by. "Would you honor me with your song?"

Oliver had nearly forgotten he had agreed to perform the song for the prince. 

"Certainly," he agreed as his eyes fluttered open.

It was a shame he had to relinquish the hand when he reached for his lute, but at least he could stay relaxed. The song he played lacked vocals in its current form, so it would be simple enough to play it while keeping his position next to the smaller feline.

With skillful movements from his fingers, the silver-haired man began to flood the room with the melody the prince fell smitten with. 

Fennel turned onto his side, resting one hand under his cheek and the other against his chest, his fingers brushing against the silky fabric of the ornate robe he wore.

His tail swished from side-to-side, displaying his happiness, and two copper ears stood tall at full attention.

Since the moment Fennel heard it during his father's passing, the enchanting melody had quickly become his favorite. No tune written by even the most skilled of bards had resonated so profoundly with his soul.

The way Oliver played possessed a certain magic. If he continued to hone his craft, history would remember the gift of song bestowed upon it.

The silver-haired bard was happy that the prince enjoyed the piece so much. When he composed the music, he hadn't expected to receive such an honorable reception. The way Fennel enjoyed the melody made him want to write lyrics inspired by the future king.

The song was now Fennel's. 

The music was cut short by a knock on the door. Fennel perked up, his ears dropping, as he had been quite enjoying the private performance.

"Thank you," Fennel muttered.

"You're most welcome."

The bard set the lute aside, then answered the door. His eyes widened when he saw the immaculate queen; a bright smile spread across her lips, looking at him.

"Oh, Oliver," she began. "I heard your playing. It was beautiful. May I ask the name of the song?"

"It doesn't have a title," Oliver replied. "I had just finished the composition a few days ago."

"Amazing," she nodded. "I cannot wait to hear more of your pieces."

"It's an honor, your majesty."

Fennel stretched, then stood from the bed, approaching the pair who lingered in the doorway. His green fixated on his mother's smiling face. "Good morning, Mother."

"Fennel, I knew you had to be in here," Queen Anise stated, as she adjusted the sash on the ornate robe matching the prince's. "Are you prepared for the day?"

"Yes," Fennel replied. "I have my part of the speech prepared."

Fennel was prepared, at least as far as the proceedings went, but the air around him still felt heavy with uncertainty. It made him question if he would ever gain confidence in the new role he was to take on.

"Wonderful. Ah, and Oliver, I have a new set of royal attire for you. Sasha, please present these to the court bard."

The lady-in-waiting appeared from around the corner, holding perfectly folded robes, and a small box. She positioned herself in front of the bard, holding the items forward, as her head bowed ever-so-slightly.

With a beautiful, soft, round face, soft pink lips, and a perfectly placed bun full of ebony hair atop her head, Oliver was impressed by the gentle beauty of the aging woman.

The presentation of the items made the bard feel somewhat uneasy. He was not used to such gestures when being presented with a gift. It made him unsure how to respond, so he simply took the items from her grasp and bowed.

"Thank you," Oliver stated with a voice full of confidence, a contrast to his internal thoughts. "I am honored to be presented with such fine clothing."

"With pleasure," Sasha nodded, backing up to stand behind the Queen, which was proper protocol for her position.

"The box contains something very special," the Queen mentioned as she turned her head to nod subtly toward her attendant. "The work of our former bard is contained within the pages of notes. I hope you will put them to good use. He was a gifted musician."

Oliver gasped. He couldn't imagine a more wonderful gift. "This is such an honor, your majesty."

"The honor is mine," she replied as she looked toward her son. "I assume the both of you will join me for breakfast now?"

"Of course," Fennel stated, smiling at the regal woman.

"Oliver, if you would, please adorn the mourning robe today," the queen instructed. "It is important we show a sense of unity during this emotional occasion."

Fennel walked past Oliver to join the queen in the hallway. 

As they walked to the dining room, he stepped into sync with Sasha, a few inches behind the queen.

"Are you nervous, your highness?" The soft-spoken attendant asked as they walked together.

"Yes," Fennel admitted. "But I must keep optimistic. The creator would not have thrust us into this moment without reason."

The words betrayed everything the feline prince felt swirling inside of his heart. 

Once they arrived, the royals took their seats at the long dining table. A few minutes later, Oliver walked in wearing his own matching black robe.

His yellow eyes shifted, examining the room. He saw the two seated at the far end of the table. When his gaze caught the queen's, he offered her a slight bow out of respect.

"Oliver, you may take a seat next to Fennel," she instructed. "You are part of the royal court now, so you may sit anywhere other than the head of the table or the first chair to each side of it."

Oliver nodded, then took the seat next to the prince. He tried to keep his eyes off of the feline on his right side, but he found his eyes shifting intermittently to take in his features. 

A moment of silence passed before a few individuals with a royal aura joined the room. Silver ears perked up as he took in the sight of the felines of both genders who took a seat at the table. Every one of them had beauty that far exceeded that of the friends he made in the slums.

Royalty was built differently.

A tall, blonde-earred feline with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes sat to the left side of the queen. He reached over to take her hand in his own, delicately planting a kiss on the back.

"Your majesty," he whispered.

"Duke Louis, thank you for joining us today," The queen smiled as she slowly pulled her hand away.

"I would not miss the funeral of your beloved," the blonde feline responded. "I am deeply hurt by the loss. It is a tragedy for the entire kingdom."

Fennel wiggled his ears and looked across the table. He offered a warm smile, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Duke Louis, it has been so long."

"Fennel, dear prince," the man started. "How are you holding up?"

Fennel kept his eyes on the feline. The Duke ruled over a large segment of Charoux, the Oxcoast, to the east. He had fond memories from his childhood of visiting the coastal territory of his uncle's rule. 

It had been several years since the two last met. When not engaged in royal protocol, he remembered that his uncle had been quite spirited. Fennel would have tons of fun playing with his uncle and his three children, who were close to his own age.

"It has been difficult," Fennel admitted. "But we have to step forward. I will do what is in my power for Charoux.

"You have matured," the Duke mentioned.

"I would hope."

"You've grown," Louis smiled. "But there is still more room for you to mature."

"Indeed, there is," Fennel agreed.

"You'll do wonderfully," Louis said. "I have faith in the abilities of my kin."

"I appreciate your kind words," Fennel replied.

"It was not meant in kindness," the Duke corrected. "It is a mere observation from the years I've known you. Your youth makes no difference. The passion in your heart will only evolve with the years, and your abilities will slowly flourish."

Fennel nodded. He wished he had half the faith in himself that everyone around him seemed to possess. The others had no access to his heart and mind, so their observations were surface level ideals. 

The casual, polite conversation was cut to a screeching halt when a short, voluptuous woman walked into a room. The air around her was filled with arrogance.

As she took a seat next to Oliver, she smirked.

So much for a pleasant morning. Her appearance would make the meal anything but.