Listening recommendation: 'My Little One' – SIAMES
The Queen stood in her personal dressing room, just adjacent to the Master Chamber she and the King shared. The room glowed with the raw light of the rising sun. Philza stood, already dressed and in front of the central mirror; motionless as a statue – eyeing his signature and simple appearance for any demerits.
The Queen's hands hovered by her waist, fastening her deep-blue day dress. The strings hung barely looser than the usual tautness. Her movements were careful, almost hesitant. It bellied her usual swift and collected routine.
Philza didn't turn or shift away from his poise. Instead, his gaze caught her in the glass's reflection. He eyed her subtle movements, noticing the flick of wrist that seemed a bit too dragged.
"You look tired, my Queen..." He murmured. His voice was soft and husky in the early morning air, lacking the cold resonance he used in the Throne room. It felt weighed by concern and care. She shook her head in a calm dismissal, turning to face Philza.
"It's just the early hour my King. I slept well" She said, pressing a thin smile through her tired features.
"You didn't-" He sharply blurted out. He broke out of his stoic stance and sharply turned to face her, coming up to her in a single stride.
"I felt you stir before the sun rose- and I know you struggled to climb the stairwell last night... was it something with the architecture? What's wrong my dear... If there's anything-" She reached out, interrupting him with her palm against his cheek. She scoffed out a weak smile and pulled him close.
"There is nothing to fix with me, nor the Palace... just this" She said gently patting his cheek. The soft rhythmic pat scraped at his scruff stubble, pressing a slight flush to tinge his skin as he realised what – or who – she was calling out.
"The day is already long. Techno is having his Patrol debut, Wilbur is lost in his lyrics again and Tommy... God knows where that boy is-" A smile twitched through Philza's concern. The mere thought of their chaotic children feeling overwhelming but comforting. He slightly shifted deeper into her palm.
"I need to be their mother, even if it's for a few minutes- and I ask that you be their father too, before the rest of the day demands the King." She slightly pulled away, adjusting a wrinkle on her dress.
"I'll call the boys in for breakfast. Go make sure the cooks haven't burnt anything down. And...try not to look like you're planning a war dear, you'll scare the maids." She let out a warm chuckle, turning to leave. Philza stepped forward and gently cupped the sides of her face, pulling her back; and closed the distance with a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Be careful, my love."
***
The East Gallery of the Palace was a crowded whirlwind. The giant windows towered each end of the long hall – welcoming the blaring rays of the high rising sun. It sat a quiet sanctuary for the brothers within its lush carpets. The giant walls carried the irreplaceable history of the Kingdom's Royalty within embossed frames. Countless portraits hung, plastered with faces historically memorable, but a complete stranger at present. Amidst all of them, at the centre of the Gallery, stood the portraits of the current family.
The largest frame hung in the middle; painted in meticulous detail of the King, the Queen and the Prince's, all in a stoic stiff stance. It was finished less than a few weeks ago. Beside the giant frame, were the multiple other portraits. Of highest detail and importance was Philza's. Beside him, was the equally important frame of the Queen. It was only after them, the three portraits of the Princes hung.
YOU ARE READING
30 Years (DSMP)
General Fiction!!!_TW_ blood, Gore!!! This story is inspired off of "Passerine - bluejamas" therefore a few scenes of this story may be similar to that story. As the rain fell upon the people, Philza, after almost 30 years, knew that with the news of the death, t...
