Cigno

Scène Un

Benno squawked in a high, grating tone, impatient and demanding. He leapt up from the floor and as the sun's last rays caught his feathers, he became a phoenix rising from the embers, carmine and golden and tangerine. As if realizing the fantastical effect of the lighting, he paused on his perch so that all might revel in his glory. His patience lasted but a moment before he flitted to another perch higher than the first and far more deserving of a creature as majestic as him. With the end of his graciousness came the end of the sun, and so he returned to his original, vibrant form. Slipping his beak through the silver bars, he demonstrated his impatience once more.

"Alright, alright, you silly bird," Madrigal cooed. She opened the door and slipped her hand inside the cage. Benno eyed her extended hand with distrust. "Well if you're going to be difficult, then I won't bother with you anymore." Indignant, he stepped onto her hand, ruffling his feathers to emphasize his displeasure. "Forgive me, your Flightiness, for not providing a silk cushion."

Still swollen into a misshapen ball, Madrigal ran her fingers over his head several times, soothing his ego. After his feathers had settled into place, she raised him to her shoulder where he took his customary position. Crossing the room, she asked him, "So now that you're in a better mood, will you help me decide what to wear to the ball?"

He chirruped his agreement and she chuckled at how easily he was swayed. Draped across the pearl chaise were three possible choices: a moonlit swan come to life, a sun bird inspired by Benno, or a night-drenched raven fashioned in relief. Each gown was a masterpiece of lace and beading, guaranteed to make every gentleman swoon and every lady envious. Her eye strayed back to the raven's iridescent plumes but she hesistated to call it her own. What would Allegro think? Would he fall to his knees and beg for her hand again, or would he tease and bemoan how early she had become a widow?

Perhaps it'd be best not to be so dramatic. There'd be plenty of opportunities to steal the spotlight during the wedding. And on that note, the swan was definitely out of the question. She could already hear the whispers of the gossip-mongers if she were step out in white before the wedding.

"I guess that means you're my guardian saint tonight, Benno," she said. Purring, he nestled closer. Madrigal called for her handmaids and placed Benno back in his cage. He squawked as the maids bustled into the room, ignoring him. To the eldest one, Madrigal said, "Make sure Elio knows I'm wearing the Benno dress."

Curtseying, the eldest maid left her quarters for Allegro's. Raising her hands, Madrigal succumbed to the orders of her maids as they slipped her out of her evening attire and prepped her for tonight's ball. As the maid hurried towards his chamber, she wondered what Allegro would wear. If his suit was anything like her gown, they'd look like a pair of phoenixes standing beside each other. Regal, resplendent, and romantic. Madrigal couldn't suppress the girlish giggles that bubbled from her mouth. The maids paused to giggle and give each other knowing looks, making her blush.

"Come now, my Lady. There's nothing to be embarrassed about," the taller maid said. "It's your engagement ball, you should be jumping out of your socks!"

"I know, I know," she replied. "It's just, when I think about seeing Allegro tonight in this dress..."

"You're going to wish the wedding was tomorrow and not three months away," suggested the smaller maid.

Madrigal squealed and her blush deepened. In the mirror, it was bright red against her pale complexion, making her seem years younger. Hurriedly, she fanned her cheeks, chiding herself for getting so worked up. It was bad enough she turned into a beet every time she drank alcohol, and even worse that Allegro had the same power over her.

When was it that she had stopped seeing him as her childhood friend? When was it that he had become the man who had stolen her heart?

She couldn't recall when exactly, only that the day he had proposed, his heart had called out and hers had responded with equal fervor. The maid was right: she wanted the wedding to be tomorrow.