Chapter 24

Painted, the caelum were hues of soft cerulean, vibing with the sincereness of tranquility bestowed to Celeste and the entirety of its territoried lands. Paired with tepid sun rays from the glowing huge sphere of lumine, vibing warmness to the calm ambiance.

Whereas the wind once in while, would sing its tunes of none that brought and washed coolness to nature and its residents.

The non-harmful good from the sun reflected a pair of silver pools, making it glimmer in the faintest of cerulean from a certain angle. Twinkling, her eyes were— whereas slowly but surely, a teasing grin made its way to her ever so plump lips.

"Oh? What's this?" As innocently as she could, Clementine feigned clueless. Albeit she was definitely mock-wondering, devilishly eyeing and provoking the poised royal.

"Prince Aethan Dei Celeste asking me for a dance? Should I be glad or should I feel concerned?" Voice laced with wondrousness.

"It's merely to destress. You've looked more. . .restless, than the last I laid my sight upon you." Replied Aethan. He turned to his left, ruffling his matcha colored tresses with the hand he had offered to her. A sigh, sharp and swift, passing his lips— indicating his rousing agitation.

"I'm no where near the word 'restless', Aethan." Dumbfounded, Clementine stated. As if to prove her point, she swifty switched her laid down body to sit upright, chest puffed out and posture straightened like a stick.

Though deep inside, she was trying her hardest to not slouch.

"You needn't act all mighty. One can deter the difference of your well-rested figure from the obverse." Aethan pointed. With a brow raised, he darted his gaze to each feature she had within her visage, squinting ever so slightly.

Trailing down from her optics, he claimed, "Both appearance and Mana wise. Even the dumbest of dumb could've discern and agreed."

Silence, and the crickets were spawned from their bushes. It rang through their ears, filling in the void of noise with their distant chirping. Though such did not last long enough, for the magician have sliced through the deafening atmosphere.

"And what if I am? What would His Highness Aethan do?" Pouted her, brows quirking to a furrow. Clementine fought the urge to loosen and laugh out loud— definitely entertained by the subsequent contorting of expressions on the prince's physiognomy.

"Have I not asked you for a dance?". Retorted the royal, moving to stand on two feet as he rewarded the mocking magician with a glower. Arms crossed, a foot tapping impatiently. "I'm seconds near to actually strangle you."

"Woah, calm your horses!" Exclaimed Clementine, hastily standing up with both hands raised in surrender.

A roll of both obsidians following a scoff, Aethan then held a hand for her to take; begrudgingly. "Would you take it or not? I'm doing you a favor here."

"Alright. . ." Yielded the whitette. Placing her hand on top of his— rough calluses from certain parts gracing his non-work indulged palm. Smiling cheekily, cheeks puffed, Clementine further on continued. "Befwore wittle bwaby Pwince Aethan gwets gwumpy."

Flinching, the latter gritted his pearly-whites. His temper reaching octaves higher. "Stop making goo goo ga ga noises. You're not an infant for Capricus' sake!" Exclaimed Aethan, to which Clementine merely guffawed out.

Though ridiculed by his so-called best bud. Deep within, he felt light, felicitous— it had been a while since this nutcase of a magician had shown herself. Delighted he was to have witnessed and be part of such a sacharrine momentum with her.

He kept his mouth shut, noiseless as he fiddled with the music box, whereas the lady whom he's currently with— was admiring the elegant item; wonderstruck.

"Curious, who in your family owns such a magnificent music playing box?" Inquired Clementine. Rounded silver irises glittering astonished yet filled with questioning.

"I know none. This box had been in this place eversince my birth." Responded Aethan.

"Could it've been your mother's? Her precious item of sort?"

"Mother's prized procession was a tiara gifted by father." Affirmed the prince. Slender fingers continued to fiddle with the said item, finding the lever that would help him wound the box to life. "Besides, this music box have lilies on them. Mother hates lilies, roses were and would always be her favorites, no matter the hue."

Clementine saw past every word. His sincerity and adoration to his mom have moved and tugged her heartstrings, warming her chest, making it well fuzzy. She must've been a great queen, wife, and mother, for his son to speak of her with such high regard.

"I haven't met her nor do I know much about the late queen— however, I'm absolute that she had been very admirable during her reign."

'Twas meant to be a compliment of her own adoration despite clueless. However, the sudden change of ambiance radiating from Aethan had Clementine receding a step.

Grim and brooding, the atmosphere surrounding the lad was. "M-my apologies. . . I—". A sputtered mess. She tried voicing out her regret for her wrong, which she was clearly befuddled of.

None of her speech were threats, and she was but swayed with the intensity of emotions that plagued her beating heart.

"You needn't apologize. I understand that you've been carried by the mood. However, please do be mindful next time." He sighed.

Right, it has always been taboo to speak with relations to the late royal. How could she set that aside? She's lived for years long within this castle, and she'd been doing well to utter none regarding the deceased queen, but now.

Skittish and anxious she was. Clementine kept on fiddling with the hem of her skirt, her head filled with all sorts of scolding and tormenting her inner subconscious for mentioning the dead negligently.

"It's alright, Clei." Assurance flooded his statement, lips that were once pursed now formed into a tiny grin. Horrible he felt when he saw how his companion went visibly rigid with unresolved tension.

"A-are you certain?"

"Mhmm, absolutely." In cue, Aethan meticulously pulled a golden lily from the box, which was then revealed to be the lever for the damned thing. Took him quite a while to figure it out, he must admit. Though after all— it was understandable for he had never used the box eversince both he and the magician were children (and he forgot the location of the lever).

"Oh thank heavens. Finally." Said the prince. Hand maneuvering the lever, winding it thrice to produce an enticing melodious harmony. The song was so sweet, Clementine unnoticeable begun humming the tune, familiarizing each note that float and engulfed her senses whole.

Aethan cleared his throat, setting the box down on the tiled floors, a good distance away from them both— and for what seems to be the nth time, he reached. "Would you like to dance with me, m'lady."

Giggling, she smirked— "I would love to, Your Highness."

Somewhere within the hidden darkest of depths residing in her mind, a question was formed. Quizzical, sensible. . . All in all wakening the slumbering kitty, springing it to life.

'Why was it prohibited to speak with relations to the late queen? What happened, exactly?'