Aldebaran

 Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is as strong as death; jealousy as cruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. – Solomon's Song

The night was calm, truly picturesque and stunning. A full moon shone brilliantly amidst the star sequined-sky, illuminating Castle Elnath like a stupendous pendant that the night sky wore with pride.

A gentle, cool breeze flooded into the redhead's room, bringing about a crisp, fresh smell. The wind told of many things. It carried the salty scent of the lesser celestial river, dancing across the lands and through the clouds, whispering the secrets of the cloud-bound land. Secrets long forgotten.

The young Ambassador, Lyude, leaned on the windowsill. The window was wide open, eagerly inviting the refreshing breeze. He stared off into the distance, beholding the glorious sight that was laid before him: Castle Elnath, backgrounded entreatingly by a beautiful night sky. Lyude could vaguely make out the dark red, shimmering clouds that slithered elegantly down the walls of the mighty castle.

He blinked, straightening his tie nervously. The Ambassador to Diadem, sent from the Empire, Lyude boarded in one of the spare rooms in Castle Elnath, graciously offered by the king himself. Lyude often left from Sheliak in his spare time, wandering nearby villages, but took a particular liking to Nashira. Nashira was dear to him: he spent majority of his free time finding out about the lives of the fisherman, listening to old tales, and generally basking in the relaxed atmosphere of the village.

Despite the gentle, practiced smile that always remained on his face, thoughts and harrowing memories nagged at his mind near constantly. Images of 'what could have been', reverberating, repeating themselves, filling him with deep regret, a hole in his heart that nothing ever seemed to fill.

Wherever he walked, be it Nashira, Sheliak, or any other village, there would always be those that wouldn't welcome him. The elderly, as a general rule, took one glance at his uniform and glared at him or backed away in fear, as if his uniform was a hideous reminder of the past. A terrible, inevitable reminder.

Breaking himself from the daydream, Lyude sighed heavily, feeling the gusts toy pleasingly with his silken, ruby-red hair, gently kissing his cheeks as if it were attempting to soothe him. He'd been here an entire year now, with no word from his siblings and Almarde's letters often took long to reach him, with Diadem being a considerable distance away from his beloved homeland.

Lyude's hand wandered across the surface of the nearby table, groping blindly for his wine glass. Having found it, he brought the crystal glass to his lips, delighting at its distinctive taste. It was a strong Merlot with a refined, sharp finish, but a delicate palate that offered a musky texture. Having finally realized that the glass of wine had actually been refilled, but not by him, he blinked for a moment in confusion.

"Good evening, dear Ambassador."

Lyude couldn't miss that soft, melodic voice. He peered meekly over his shoulder, beholding the sight that was, as he partially suspected, King Ladekahn. The king's elegance radiated throughout the room and a regal air surrounded him. Lyude studied him for a moment in the given light. As usual, King Ladekahn's white hair cascaded gently down his shoulders like a gleaming angelic banner. He was not wearing his neckdress, nor his cape, but he wasn't entirely dressed-down either. The king's eyes were what stood out the most. They were gentle and kind with what could only be described as a youthful, boyish glimmer. His porcelain white skin was tinged a gentle silver, given off by full moon's light.

Indeed, he was the most beautiful sight Lyude had ever laid eyes on.

Coming out of his reverie, Lyude quickly set down his glass of wine and promptly bowed to the white king.