Together in Paris - Together in the City of Love

1

1916.

The Peterhof Palace in St. Petersburg, Russia was a sight to behold. Magnificent in every sense of the word, it upheld the perfect image of royalty for many generations; which was just the reason why the Joss and his family were hosting a ball one late winter’s evening—to celebrate the three-hundredth anniversary of the Romanovs’ rule.

With its ornate gold gilding, walls adorned with portraits done in oil paints, and an intricately patterned floor, not only was the palace magnificent—it was more than spectacular when populated by regal guests, waltzing in pairs to bright, prideful music.

Not that Ohm should know any of this. A servant, nothing more than a boy working in the kitchens, should not have the honours of knowing such things, that happen in the ballroom.

And yet, there he stood, hiding from his duties as he peeked around a pillar to observe the event. Ohm was entranced by the music and the twirling and the in-sync steps, and there was no sense in blaming him for it. He couldn’t name a single servant that wouldn’t wish to be out on the floor for a reason other than scrubbing and polishing the tile.

Ohm’s fantasies are short-lived, however, when a much older member of the imperial palace’s staff is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back towards the kitchens, where he belonged.

As they leave, however, the music comes to a screeching halt and a collective gasp falls over the room. At the older servant’s hesitance at the commotion, Ohm takes the opportunity to slip from his grasp and run back out towards the ballroom, and his previous hiding spot, to see what all the fuss was about.

It’s a tall, brooding man in a cloak stalking his way up to the throne, with his family. It’s the man Ohm thinks he’s seen once or twice before, but from the distance he watched he was unable to tell.

Joss is yelling for the man to get out, shouting about how he’d been banished from the palace, from St. Petersburg for a reason, but the man does not listen.

“I’m your confidant, Joss. You need me!” The man exclaims. He holds an odd sort of reliquary in his hand. It shines an eerie green that could be seen from every corner of the ballroom. Its colour is out of place from the white and gold that surrounded them.

“Confidant?” The Joss scoffs. “You're a traitor, Luke! Leave before I make you!”

Luke simply shakes his head, a maniacal laughter bubbling up his throat, echoing through the ballroom, the palace. He raises the strange reliquary above his head.

“I am not going anywhere,” Luke announces. “You tried to banish me, you tried, and that was your first mistake. So, in trade, you get a curse.”

The older servant is tugging at Ohm’s arm once again, but the boy does not budge. The servant doesn’t make much of an attempt to pull him away, anyway, also curious as to what will arrive, what Luke intended with a curse.

“Within a fortnight, Joss, mark my words,” Luke says slowly, “you, along with the rest of your family, will all be dead as a cause of what you tried to do with me. I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line!”

Just as the Joss gestures for guards to come and restrain Luke, a bright, emerald glow is cast throughout the ballroom, and in a flash the majestic, crystalline chandelier comes crashing to the ground, just hardly missing the Joss. Panic and chaos break out as people fear for their lives and begin to flee. The Joss calls for the guards again, but Luke is nowhere in sight.