Nightingale

Chapter XIV

P A R T   O N E

Empress Nightingale

        Within the fortress of the great imperial castle, there was a magnificent garden. Magnolia trees surround the estate like great armies defending their citadel. The great expanse of flowers and fauna enhance the land's beauty. The vast lawn was lovingly paved with a small river that carried fallen pink petals as droplets cascaded from the small waterfall. Underneath a torii gate, there was a wooden bridge that crossed the middle so you could look down at the koi carp.

        At the edge of the garden, there was a crooked tree. It hunched to the side, its branches hung low to the ground as if it wanted nothing more than to be sheltered by the tall grasses. 

        From the branches, hung a makeshift hammock. And there, a little boy lay. The boy had midnight-colored hair that dominated his narrow face, and behind the shutters of his dark mane were his blue eyes. Blue orbs that held the beautiful nature of his kind heart and innocent mischief -- One that would brutally be beaten out of him by the time he is grown.

        He lays peacefully on a hammock, the boy gently rocking back and forth as he played with two dolls, a male fairy and a girl fairy, gracefully twirled, holding each other’s stick hands as they danced. The boy blushed as his imagination swirled with the thoughts of one day finding the "one true love" he would read about in stories.

        Then sudden snap awoken the child from his daydreaming. He turns his head to find a portly old woman hobbling towards him.

        "Ambrose, you know you aren't supposed to be here," the woman scowls him, "You are late for your historical studies!"

        The boy pouts and rolls his eyes, "What's the point of learning about dead people, Ms. Adalina? They're dead!"

        "Learning about history can be beneficial, my boy," Ambrose's nanny explained, "History has its mistakes and perhaps you can learn from them in order to prevent them from occurring again."

        Ambrose sighs. Ms. Adalina had a point...

        He begrudgingly stands from his hammock and allows the old woman to grab a hold of his hand. As she lead him away, Ambrose couldn't help but look at their interlocked hands. Compared to his real mother, Ms. Adalina was kind and gentle. Perhaps the treatment was just because it is her job as a nanny or perhaps it's because he is a prince. Nonetheless, Ms. Adalina was one of the only people to treat him as he was -- a child, not a prince, not an adult, nor a future king, but an innocent little boy.

        Even if it was just for a few moments, Ambrose would always be thankful that Ms. Adalina would give him the small semblance of being a normal child.

- - - - - -

        In the following years to come, Ambrose held onto the kindness of Ms. Adalina. He only hated that he wasn't able to hold onto it for just a bit longer.

        The icy grey sky restlessly grumbled. The thick, black clouds struggled to withstand the burden of the weight of the rain it held. And soon it gave in. Icy droplets poured down over Ambrose with a roar. The sound of emptiness was disrupted at times with loud gregarious booms of thunder. 

        Located within the outskirts of the city capital, there was a humble cabin sheltered by a surrounding forest. Following the trail that leads from the city, Ambrose's cloaked figure makes its way toward the tiny home. Without any warning, the boy burst into the home.