Under the Night Sky (Tefa & Sia)

[Teaf]

Rou tugged on the hem of his sleeves to straighten them out and idly pondered, not for the first time that day, if the evening would go well. He had noticed how the prince's mood seemed to shift: every hour closer to the start of the banquet seemed to push him further into his shell. A place where it was difficult for him to see, let alone follow. And the stag hated that.

Frowning softly, he looked himself over one more time in the full-length mirror in his personal quarters, making sure every thread was in place. Tonight was another important night, and he dressed accordingly: his highest fashion uniform was a dark ash with brass accents that could, albeit sparingly, work as armor if an emergency required it to. The tunic was straight and fitted well, flaring in from his broad shoulders to a narrowed waist, with the back specifically tailored so the two tails split at just the right spot to make room for his own. Belted at his hips was a longtime, well-trusted sword: his hand idly landed on the pommel, rubbing against the smooth surface for comfort. Even his antlers had been carefully trimmed and polished, so that only a total of 6 rounded, dulled points curled away from his ears.

Everything for himself was in place, and Rou considered it a small blessing that a handmaid only came scurrying to his door after he had prepared so well. Gently, the stag swung open his door and nodded at the human, noting how terse she seemed.

"The King sent me to fetch you, but I have my hands full with the linens." The woman promptly turned on a heel and departed, tossing out the rest over her shoulder. "He's supervising the dance hall currently."

He swallowed a soft curse before exiting his space – one of the larger rooms among the royal servants, which he was grateful for. His boots padded quietly down the labyrinth of stone corridors that served as the underbelly of the castle, keeping his strides long and quick. If the desire to speak was for what he thought it was, Rou would rather get it over with.

A hidden staircase came out into a carpeted hallway that separated the main hall from one of the smoking rooms. Maids, cooks, and the orchestra had all busied themselves on their respective tasks, quietly observed by the wolven guards that were stationed every twenty feet. Rou carefully picked and wove his way around the busy scene until he could wait within eyesight of the King, hands neatly folded in front of him.

He stood still until the man wearing rich golds and purples flashed him a pointed look. Stepping forward, Rou immediately bent his back into a steep bow, one hand over his heart. "Your Majesty. How might I serve you this evening?"

"I need you to – wait." A swift glance up helped him realize it was not an order for him, but for the Head Chef who was hurrying past the banquet hall doors. "We need to have the drinks ready in a half hour," the King ordered, rich cape swirling around his arms while he gestured. "Now, yes – I need you to ensure that the prince will be well and ready for this evening."

Silently, Rou's insides crumpled a bit. This was what he had feared. Years of safeguarding could only have prepared him so much for such a task; for some reason, the prince had taken his news of courtship rather poorly. Such a fact was all the more evident that the King, as busy as he was, had apparently taken notice. There was another sharp look. "He is to greet every guest tonight, and I want no less than five dances from him with suitors. Do I make myself clear?"

The stag straightened until his antlers were proudly even, though one hand was still kept over his heart in an attempt to look earnest. Rou personally thought he was more likely to grow a third antler by the evening's end then get the prince to skip merrily into the banquet hall with the enthusiasm the king was expecting.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I can personally assure you that I will oversee his socializing tonight. I will do everything in my power to ensure a satisfying evening for all."

He waited until the King officially dismissed him before giving another low bow and departing. Dark brown eyes flicked up towards the ceiling as if he could see the prince through the walls, praying that his promises wouldn't be too far from the truth.

In a matter of minutes, Rou had climbed a few staircases and reached the royal quarters. Blu, a wolf that was often stationed on guard of the hallway, offered the smallest of nods to him as he passed. "Your Highness?" Carefully, Rou knocked on the closed door and flicked both ears forward to listen intently. There was just an hour before the guests were due to arrive. Surely the servants had helped the prince dress and groom for the evening – but that didn't mean he would be prepared.

Courtesy made him wait for a few heartbeats before reaching for the door handle; as the Private Guard of His Royal Highness, The Prince, it was a rare privilege to enter without explicit permission. Sometimes in the face out outright rejection. He slipped inside, daring himself to feel a bit hopeful. Perhaps the prince would be in a better mood for this ball.

"His Majesty has requested your presence a bit earlier then before. He'd like you to be with him and Her Royal Majesty when greeting guests. Are you ready?"

 

[Sweet Sia]

Melancholy. That's what the Doctor had said, making a recommendation for two oval shaped pills from a small bottle the Prince had been given alongside ample amounts of both sleep and sun. 'Crushed Zinnia root from the Western deserts', or so he'd been told after eyeing the tablets suspiciously -- but without any reason to doubt the same Doctor who had been treating the Prince since he was a child, after all. Bastia took the bottle without any promise of actually taking the substance inside and dismissed the man.

That word bounced around his head for a while longer, he didn't like how it sounded -- even inside his own head, and that wasn't even beginning with the negative repercussions and societal judgement that came with it. Especially for someone of his stature and rank.

And yet, how else to explain the greatly diminished behavior of the once exuberant and outgoing Prince recently? Where was the Prince Bastia whom had once, as a young, good-meaning troublemaker, started a stampede of courtly animals and livestock because he thought they looked too 'cramped' in their cages. Gone were the days of impromptu banter and jokes with his favorite maids and guards that made him a welcome sight of respite among many of the palace's lower ranked servants. At least when the King wasn't around. Gone was the levity that had once surrounded the Prince and for which he had become known for, replaced by something altogether more -- reserved, if you were being kind about it.

Of course, Bastia himself had a suspicion for what was causing this internal mayhem. This rift in his life that had so suddenly caused him to become unsure of what it truly was that he wanted out of this life, or indeed, even whether he could adequately perform his responsibilities and duties as Prince at all. This secret had been tearing at him for months now, ever since the search for a proper Suitor to the Prince had actively begun. And ever since then expectations had only gotten bigger.

The Rabbit twins, Kyra and Lyra, had come by earlier to help his Majesty prepare for what was yet another Royal Ball. Well known for their exquisite taste and impeccable fashion sense even before arriving at court -- what had often been a time of great merriment and fun between Prince and his Tailors for Grand Balls of the past had become little more than a chore. A duty of his rank.

And yet, somber attitude aside, no one could say the twins hadn't done their job. Stepping aside to allow the Prince to fully view himself in the mirror -- golden curls of hair framed well-known deep azure eyes, for which the royalty of House Rhaegar were famous. A loose white-dress shirt made of the finest silks was draped with a red and gold trimmed cape that billowed effortlessly around the Prince as he moved, light enough so as to not impede movement while being thick enough to command presence. Black and gold trimmed trousers made of fine leathers completed the outfit, with just a few pieces -- rings, necklaces, and so forth, from the Royal jeweler to complete the look.

'Simple. Elegant. Powerful.' the twins had said to each other before taking their leave.

Which was ironic, because 'Powerful' was the last way Bastia felt right now.

And so it was that Rou would find his royal charge currently splayed, golden curls, cape and all, out on the gigantic bed across from his entrance. Perhaps he may have attempted to stall his inevitable arrival with protests -- but Bastia had long learned the futility of these attempts, charged with the authority of his Father as his 'Protector', as Rou were. And so he decided on his only other viable tactic in this situation -- delay.

And, if Bastia were being honest with himself, Rou had long been one of the few people whose company he could stomach any way, even when he wasn't feeling himself. Or on days like this. One of the few people for whom he could -- even slightly, let down the walls of his position. "Let us pretend, my dear Rou, for just one moment, that I responded in the affirmative" Bastia continued to stare up at the ceiling, eyes only looking over to Rou momentarily almost as if pleading while already knowing the answer, and then looking away "I don't suppose my loyal Guard would allow me to skip this event, just this once?" Mid afternoon light from the terrace beamed in from the open windows that shown on the lush valley below. Bastia righted himself on the bed, sitting up to face his Guardian "Or perhaps a run for it..." a small smile tugged on the corner of his lip.

His words were an attempt at light-heartedness, a joke, the kind of banter he knew those around him expected him to make. But they also betrayed something else; an uncertainty, a hopelessness of sorts.

 

[Teaf]

The shadow had not lifted. Instinct had made Rou suspect such a state, but a small twinge of alarm nonetheless rippled through his fur. It was disheartening to see the prince struggle to produce a halfhearted smile when he had been so long known for his bright conversations and mischievous, playful demeanor. Time seemed to further distance the young man from what he had once been – and Rou silently wondered if there was such a thing as wandering too far to return.

Slowly, Rou closed the door behind him and stepped over to the expansive bed, neatly framed by four posts and rich curtains for privacy. He paused at the foot so he could lightly lean one shoulder against the polished wood, studying Bastia while simultaneously struggling to keep the concern from lining his face.

Before the shadow had latched itself onto the prince, Rou had at one time assumed that the friendship which had blossomed beyond their posts would have weathered anything. The near decade he had spent devoted to the prince had brought a myriad of experiences, memories, and – most importantly – affection. The prince's came in the form of teasing, jokes, and easing down the carefully concocted walls that most royals erected in order to portray a regal and strong ruler. For Rou, his pride in his work steadily grew with each passing year until he could no longer deny how his heart swelled with happiness whenever the prince spoke candidly with him. Even now, he felt his heartstrings tenderly vibrate at the prince's casual use of sweet words. My dear Rou.

He tried to ignore the more anxious part of his mind that wondered why the prince would pull away from him, too, if he could still offer such an endearing title to him. Why the prince would hide the cause of his anguish as if he could not trust Rou enough to help alleviate his pain.

The stag offered his own small smile at the gentle proposal of an escape. "I believe your father would skin us both alive and use our hides for new fireplace rugs if we were to abandon tonight's evening," he declared softly. However, the emotions underneath the words had not quite escaped him. His unease heightened enough that Rou shifted weight from one foot to the other, eyes momentarily flicking over to the nearest window to consider the best course of action.

"However…perhaps we could make tonight easier in some way. It seems the trend of women being purposefully clumsy is still very popular." Some new story about a commoner sneaking into a royal ball and losing a slipper, only to have the prince fall in love with her the moment he returned the lost shoe, had spread across the kingdom like wildfire. It was almost humorous, the number of princesses and aristocratic women who had purposefully dropped a handkerchief, earring, or bracelet within Prince Bastia's vicinity at the last ball. "A drink for every maiden who hopes to earn your attention by littering the ground with an item. Or who knows? Perhaps there will be a princess tonight who detests these balls as much as you do." Rou flicked his gaze back to Bastia's handsome eyes and forced himself to smirk, infusing his words with a lighthearted prod. "You two could find each other and bemoan your evening together."

He had hoped that Bastia's attempt at a small jest meant that some of his happiness could be redeemed tonight, but suddenly Rou sensed otherwise. There was a small moment of hesitation before the stag stepped closer and seated himself onto the bed, twisting to face the prince. "Are you…not well again tonight, my Prince?" Rou asked carefully, letting a bit of formality seep back into his words. Previous attempts at asking what was wrong had been deflected or altogether ignored: this was the closest he could come to what he really wanted to know without significant risk of rejection.

 

[Sweet Sia]

"I do not believe the quality of my hide would be nearly that of yours my friend, so yes... a future best avoided" Bastia could feel himself laugh, even slightly. It wasn't something that came to him as much these days, so he had learned to appreciate these moments. The prince swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, letting the majestic view fill his vision. And yet why still that anxious gnawing still harbored inside of him?

Ah yes. The story of the slipper. "If only we had a coin for every trinket, our coffers would be overflowing" Bastia, as best he could, usually gave no mind to the silly games of the Maiden's at these balls. Save a dance or two with some influential Duke or Counts daughter or another in order to satiate the ulterior interests of the King. While he was young -- his 21st birthday only a few weeks away as it were, these being times of instability among the tribes of the land and even within the Human Clans, his father was eager to secure a powerful alliance of some powerful Duke or another. His marriage thus being critical to securing his fathers influence, as it were.

And yet, Bastia had begun to feel his resentment and hopelessness grow. With each subtle threat that technically his father could simply choose his wife. With each elaborate charade of a ball designed to manipulate his affections. With each reminder that it was all, in the end, his duty. It was all too much.

Overwhelming.

A Prince wasn't allowed to have those feelings. Bastia shook his head as if he'd lost his train of thought and turned to look at Rou who was now sitting beside him. He hoped he hadn't noticed. He knew that was unlikely.

Regaining his thoughts, "Ah, yes... Perhaps the Duke's Daughter Sylvia will be there. She could be fun to drink with" a slight mischievous smirk crossing his lips. Sylvia was a well known socialite in the Human court and the daughter of a relatively influential if middling Duke. She was well known for her dramatic outfits and flourishes and stunning red hair, but was also a well known proponent of equal rights between not only women and men, but also the 'Kingdoms of Fur' as they were referred to and Humans. Typically those Non-Humans not loyal to the Human Monarchy were referred to as 'Tribes' and strictly banned from the Royal lands under the conservative and harsh rule of his father.

For this reason and others, Bastia had often found himself drawn to her at balls. They had intelligent conversations and it always helped that they shared a decent appetite for mockery of certain royal customs, something that often came out particularly when Sylvia had encouraged him to consume one too many drinks. Of course his father had never approved of his dalliance with Sylvia, for many reasons. Chief among them however the rumors at court that she enjoyed the affections of woman a little too much.

Bastia looked away, unwilling to meet the gaze of his lifelong friend, his moth faithful servant, his protector. As if it were that if he looked long enough, Rou would uncover all of the young Prince's secrets. And it was true that he knew it pained his loyal Guardian that he wouldn't share these with him. The bond that they had formed over the many years of shared experience was such that certain things were sometimes left unsaid between them. While perhaps being said in the most loud ways, such as silence.

And yet, he could not. He just could not... "Your concern is appreciated my friend, really, I..." Bastia got up to stand away from Rou as if a thought threatened to consume him, turning around to face him once more "The Doctor was just in actually. He says I may have a light cold, but nothing of worry" the Prince did his best to feign a smile as he lied and walked forward to put his hand on the stags shoulder, " Really, just recommends sleep and sustenance, so I shall make sure to eat my portion, yes?" And with that Bastia turned to the terrace and breathed in the fresh air of the valley, trying to push down any lingering feelings of of guilt at the fact that he had just lied to probably the one person he may very well have been safe to share his anxieties with.

 

[Teaf]

"I do believe Miss Sylvia may be in attendance tonight." Rou smirked softly in return, grateful that something could elicit a positive response from the prince. The better part of himself snuffed out the much smaller, jealous voice that whined about not being the cause of the smile himself. It wasn't fair to either of them: Sylvia, although eccentric, seemed like a kind woman with thoughts leagues ahead of her time. She always made a point to greet him as well – the only noble who bothered to speak with him. Rou couldn't truly be angry that such a woman would make the prince perk up. "You two do get along well together."

The smile faltered when something seemed to shift between them. Like a gust of icy wind, he could see the Prince suddenly grown shuttered and cold. Rou froze on the bed save for his eyes, which followed the prince's back while he explained.

Usually, he was present whenever the prince needed medical assistance; the aberration from routine made an uncomfortable suspicion gnaw at his insides. The King must have made a decision – or did the Prince request the privacy? Either way, it was clear that there was no cold. "…I see," Rou replied softly, dark nose twitching for a moment. His gaze dropped to the floor just as gentle hands briefly landed upon his shoulders. The touch did not ease the concern in his mind, and he stood up a bit more stiffly than he meant. "Well then…that's good."

He wasn't sure what to say. Pressing felt wrong when so much work had been done to keep him away – though he wasn't keen on accepting the distance, either. Rou's hand smoothed over the pommel of his sword once more as he raked his mind for ideas, frustrated when he came up with nothing. After a few more moments his shoulders dropped in quiet defeat with a soft sigh. "If you are ready, Your Highness, we can move to the Great Hall. Perhaps we can slip out a bit earlier and get you some rest if we arrive earlier."

Rou held open the door for the Prince so he could silently fall behind him in step, always a few feet away, always with those bouncing locks of golden hair kept in his peripheral gaze. Tonight, it was harder to keep himself on task while they walked: Rou was busy wondering if whatever change in their friendship was becoming permanent.

The Great Hall was still decorated in the same grand tapestries as the first one: vibrant colors flickered in the light of the candles, and fresh flowers sweetened the air at every large dining table scattered at the front of the room. One large aisle was put down the middle for entry to allow access to the buffet at the back – where racks of chicken, dozen tenderloins, and two pigs were being arranged along with a multitude of breads, fruits, soups, and cheeses. Before that room was the entertaining hall, which was where the King and Queen had decided to receive their guests. They stood at the opposite side of the live orchestra, furthest from the main entrance. Rou silently followed the Prince over to his parents with a respectful drop of his head, doing a customary bow once in their presence.

Behind the King and Queen were two other deer – a Stag with nearly 18 points on his head behind the kind, and a haunty looking Doe behind the Queen. The family had a long history of only taking up deer as their caretakers. Rou took his place up next to the two, posting himself behind the prince so he was only an arm's length away should any need arise for his assistance.

Soon after the great hall doors swung open with a servant announcing the names of the first family that arrived. Rou sent up a soft plea to the heavens. Please let this night go well.

 

[Sweet Sia]

On some level, Bastia knew that it was futile lying to the man whom had been there for what was nearly half his life. Rou was like a best friend and older brother to him, if there was even a way to describe their bond. And thus he knew it must pain the stag to know he was lying, that there were things he was withholding from him. And yet how was Bastia suppose to talk about something he didn't even fully understand himself yet? That growing anxiety whenever thoughts of his future would arise. The pressure he felt to live up to the expectations of a Kingdom and the ever-watching eyes of the court. And the increasing realization that his desires did not lie with the maidens he danced with at the balls, but elsewhere...

'Always thinking of me...' And so why could he not trust his most loyal companion with his burdens? And for a moment, standing there with so little space in between them -- Bastia thought about how easy it would be to bridge that gap, turn around and bury his face in Rou's chest once more, like he'd done so many times before those first few years they'd been together, whenever there had been a night terror or some other fright as a child. Apologize for lying and simply let Rou help like he knew his guardian and protector wanted nothing more than to do...

That gnawing inside held him back. The fear that perhaps if Rou knew how weak he truly was -- even his most trusted confidante would lose faith in him. And if that happened, who else would he truly have? The better part of him knew that wasn't true. Knew that he should trust Rou and their bond. And yet...

"That much is true..." the Prince shook his head a little and took in some fresh air before turning around once more to face Rou. "Also, the sooner we arrive, the sooner we may begin with fizzy drinks..." Bastia reached up to brush some golden hair behind his ears and flash a slight smirk at the stag "and the wooing of damsels, of course" attempting to make light of the situation with a small chuckle as best he could.

As they left the bedroom Bastia fell in lockstep with Rou. This was in many ways the easy part for him, the part in which he could allow his courtly upbringing and education to take control. The Prince gave small, passing acknowledgements to the Duke's and those in positions of power as they passed. His father had always instilled in him the importance of making acquaintances -- for it was the men and women of these courts he would need to woo, if he were to be King himself one day.

As they entered the grand reception hall Bastia made his way towards the King and Queen, - his parents. "And to what do we owe such expedient attendance this afternoon, my dear Son?" His Mother the Queen nodded towards Rou in acknowledgement. "Mother, Father" Bastia gave his own curt bow as was tradition even as a Prince at a ball such as this before the three of them took their seats at the center banquet table, his father proceeding to make courtly small talk with his son as the noble families of the realm made their entrance.

It was nearly an hour later -- once all the guests had been introduced and seated, and his Father had given a very bombastic speech about the unity of the realm and its future, that they were finally free to socialize. As always a number of young ladies hovered around him at all times, like jackals circling a fresh carcass in the wild. 'Fitting.'

And yet, - none would have the courage nor audacity to impose on the Prince's distracted attention until a certain crimson haired contessa approached with two drinks in hand. "Ah. And so my prayers are answered, and with such timing and ferocity..." Bastia graciously accepted his third drink of the night, feeling a slight ease of his anxieties with each glass gone by. "I live to serve, my liege, and after all...someone must attempt and loosen you, so you may take pity on these poor ladies of the realm" Bastia couldn't argue with that logic, it was a fact that this ruse would go on until he had given out enough dances to potential suitors to satisfy the King. "Touché" The Prince had never been a lush, and yet... With the guilt of his earlier conversation with Rou still fresh on his mind, among other worries, the fact that he was drinking more than usual did not quite cross his mind.

And so the night would draw out as the golden haired Prince dutifully made his rounds from discussing the affairs of State and country with Noblemen and then seemingly coincidentally being introduced to their 'Lovely Daughter's' each time thereafter. Now Bastia was nothing short of a Gentleman and excellent dancer, having always possessed a certain grace befitting his position as Prince. And so it was without a doubt the increasing intoxication in his body that led him to slip ever so slightly out of rhythm, a young brunette Duke's daughter slipping out of his hands at just the right moment to tumble on the floor. "Ah! My Lady, I do apologize..." Bastia offered a hand to help the visibly flustered girl up, and while she had begun to profusely apologize to him it was clear the fault had been his.

From somewhere within the crowd Sylvia would watch with a concerned gaze. Recognizing the possibility of trouble for the Prince she would do her best to locate one such Stag with whom she was somewhat familiar, the trusted Guardian of her dear Friend after all. Easily spotted not far off, "Has anyone ever told you, Sir Rou, that such antlers do make for quite convenient locating in a crowd" Sylvia would try and be discreet, not wishing to alert either His or Her Majesty to any sort of disorder. "Pray tell, our Prince -- has he seemed quite, alright?"

 

[Teaf]

And so their routine began. Rou would hover in the middle-distance, quietly slipping through the crowds to follow the prince wherever he went – while simultaneously looking as if he wasn't shadowing the man's every move. The humans would have balked at the thought of someone like him approaching their conversation cirlces; and Rou, if he were being honest, found most of the conversations boring anyway. Standing tall, hands idly tucked behind him except when he wanted to ensure his sheathed sword wouldn't bump into anyone, he watched from afar and occasionally scanned the rest of the hall to make sure all was well.

The night seemed to be going in order, which surprised him. He might have, Rou almost guiltily admitted to himself, expected more resistance to from the prince at dancing. But after a few young ladies finally struck up the courage to separate from the prowling group and ask for a dance directly, he had obliged with reasonable grace and a relieving amount of politeness. Rou pressed himself against the wall of the hall whenever Bastia was busy twirling a young maiden among the rest of the coupled dancers, watching with surprise. The anxiety the prince had shown in his personal chambers had disappeared – likely thanks to the help of the alcohol Lady Sylvia had encouraged him to drink at the start, but still. Half the crowd had a bit of wobble in their legs and Bastia did not look overly unsteady until the later half of the night.

Rou was standing on the sidelines, as usual, when Bastia spilled the woman onto the floor. He jolted in shock, immediately flicking his eyes to several places – those nearby who immediately turned their heads, assessing how scandalized they should pretend to be, to the woman who seemed more embarrassed then hurt, and finally for the King and Queen, who were still seated and in deep discussion with another royal family. It was with reluctance that Rou forced himself to stay where he was, grateful to see Bastia at least offer her a hand to right the situation. Intervening could hurt the Prince's stature by silently admitting it wasn't merely a complete accident.

He was deep in his own thoughts, suddenly planning how he might be able to deliver a goblet of water to Bastia, when someone near him spoke. Dark eyes flashed down to his side, not entirely surprised to see Sylvia. In the years he had been serving, she was the only high-end human who ever spoke to him.

"Lady Sylvia," Rou greeted, immediately executing a deep bow to signal his reverence. When he straightened, his eyes moved back to Bastia briefly. He wasn't sure if it was a boon that Sylvia had noticed as well – the royals were so careful about their appearance and reputation, even amongst those they considered good friends.

"His Royal Highness is a bit under the weather, I'm afraid." That much seemed safe to offer. Then, hesitating for a long moment, Rou looked back down at the young woman and ventured a bit further. "Perhaps he may gain some strength to be himself if he speaks with you for some time. He was looking forward to tonight once he knew you were in attendance." Perhaps Bastia would get irritated for his slight embellishment. It was worth it, if he could give the prince some room to breath and the company of someone he did seem to take some special interest in.