The Nightingale and His Golden Cage

Princely manners

Alexios

The next day I try to roam near the place hopeful see the beautiful statue boy.... I mean the prince! Of course I mean the prince! Yes the prince! Of course I only want to exchange princely thoughts and..... who am I kidding? The boy Intrigues me immensely to say it lightly. Why say it lightly? This young man has captured my mind in less than half a minute and not even by being extremely clever or charming (although I am certain he is) simply because he is so...... heavenly beautiful, gifted with elegance. I am intrigued, would it be possible to hide a kind and modest gentleman underneath. But perhaps the prince is a typical royal with an inflated ego But monetheles no one has ever forbidden me to dream. I've never been an Easthete and it also dissappoints me how much simple physical appearance can sway me from my simple and outlook on life and the world. What is this terrible malady? I do not like this revealing fact that all can be tempted to the admiration of the winner of gods ever-going genetical lottery. And even if I disdain this feeling. I am not prepared to flee from it. I will only run towards the intrigue. Chase the high of the fact that I have no answer to this terrible why. I wonder if Marius even knows he is absolutely enchanting or do I simply find him enchanting? I could never find that out, Could I?

My mind murmurs with these thoughts while I walk through the endless gardens of the palace of stars. That's what it's called or at least what my father says it is. I am pretty certain that the real name is in french like most palaces in Thalberg but really does it make much of a difference? my eyes dart from side to side as I to try to recognise the specific sorts of flowers included in these beautiful gardens but I am convinced some of them are specifically made for this location. Or they must come from some exotic place I have never been and will never have the pleasure of being either. I walk up a road which kindly crosses some gladly flowing streams.The absurdly idealistic serenity almost seems unnerving. I wonder if it would drive you mad when you would Live here, all that beauty, all that perfection. Would there be room for mistakes? hopelessness? pessimism? I highly doubt it. But perhaps I am wrong and perfect surrounding shall shape a perfect human. 

I walk through the trees when all of a sudden the road just simply stops. A mountain blocks the way. I look puzzled at it, why would they cut off a road like this? That is an imperfection. "Are you lost?" The melodic voice hums. I turn around and I see the prince, as I expected.I am enchanted by his presence, the distance between us is killing, his feet on the ground are like pen to a paper, a blessing disguised in ink and dreaming. I feel my heart desiring to hold him close, I deny the mere thought of it. I do not even know him. I need to know about him, I need to know him, I need to recognise his pale skin in the moonlight, his tears need to be my acquaintances, his skin must be my silk, his voice must be my wind. I don't understand how he could be so perfect, I don't understand why I am so flawed. I don't understand. I think that is that I desire, not him, not his beauty. I am looking for a way to mend all the pieces of me that are so utterly broken. I am wishing to be a butterfly I am not. I wonder where he hides his wings he must be an angel. 

"Why does it stop here?" "It technically doesn't" he says stepping closer to me. He speaks quietly and slowly as if his brain is dragging his feet. I look him up and down as he walks to a specific stone. I look at the beautiful clothes, they are decorated with religious golden symbols and jewels. I am puzzled by the beautiful but old-fashioned clothing. I am not the only puzzled one, the fox that is following him everywhere looks at me suspiciously trying to decide whether he'll hate me or not. But the fox isn't the only one that perpetually follows him, the prince is accompanied by one his staff members every waking hours, or at least. It seems like he is.  Why. I wonder if this perfect. Feature might pose a threat to himself when left on his own. I wonder whether his beautiful smile is a perpetual lie. I wonder if might be the reason he needs to look as perfect as he does. Perhaps it is a way of distracting from his poisonous thoughts, his broken little heart. He reminds me of a bird, beautiful and untouchable but now I need I to to figure out whether he has broken wings or not.