WILLOCK 30

The interactions, conversations, and everything had come to an end. The most intoxicated and the most eager to leave had already said their goodbyes and departed,..as others set to carry their bags and make their ways out. I had indulged myself in some wine and was wandering through the areas where the guests had been. Various exhibitions were set up for them to enjoy and potentially purchase. I understood a lot about art, particularly literature and anything related to aesthetics and the philosophy behind art expressed through words and other mediums. I was sipping my wine and observing one particular artwork. It depicted a seemingly painful scene—a man bleeding as if from the touch of love, with a blade piercing through his heart and bloody stains on the blade. His hand clenched the blade, as if he didn't want anyone to assist in removing it, even stopping another hand reaching out to help.

"Nice art," a voice said from behind me. I recognized that voice—it was the princess. She hadn't told me her name yet, so I turned to look at her, trying to make her feel comfortable standing beside me, a gesture I felt was appropriate in such a setting, not quite sure, but I just simply did it. 

"It is," I replied firmly, understanding that she may have expected a response and that her comment about the art was possibly a way to start a conversation, or some sort of that..or maybe some compliment, but ofcourse it was something to do with starting a conversation. I was never good in speaking to ladies, I was always somehow nervous, anxious, un surety or sort of things as such.

"The man bleeding seems almost on the verge of death," she remarked, but it seemed to me that she had misunderstood the art. I had never tried my hand at drawing, but I could interpret it. The way the man held the knife suggested that someone had stabbed him a long time ago, to the point where he had become accustomed to the pain. When someone else came to remove it, he still felt the urge to hold it back.

"I believe the bleeding man has a deeper meaning; this entire piece is symbolic, if that's the best way to describe it," I said. I had to remember to keep a low profile here. I didn't want anyone to see me as anything more than what I appeared to be. I had many ideas and was sharp, well-read, and educated, but I hoped the princess wouldn't inquire too deeply about all of this.

"You are quite good in literature and philosophy, two subjects that are only taught within a certain circle of humans. I'm quite skeptical about you being just Lock," she stated. Of course, she was right. In London, only one school taught literature classes, and philosophy was a mandatory subject for all graduates and members of the monarchy, except for women. Literature was sometimes offered to girls, but not philosophy. She had asked, asked about my indulgencies and my knowledge, quite not right. I needed to somehow keep my profile low.

"I happen to have read and indulged in literature more," I stated, making her pause in her unintended scrutiny of me.

"I can led you some of my literature books, maybe …embrace yourself." She stated, looking at me steadily,… as if hoping for a better answer… a yes am sure, and I sure nodded to that. I was not even sure what I was doing, I was not even plotting anything to reach to Amir, everything seemed to be setting into place, everything just seemed to be knocking on my door, wishing for just me to open, what was the princess wanting?

"Why are you lost in thought again, Lock? It doesn't suit you," she added, making me turn my attention back to her. She was slightly shorter than me, with Arabian skin that had a mixture of brown and white. She was undeniably beautiful, a word that I feared would slip out of my mouth involuntarily, for sometimes, I was sort of not able to focus what is my mind and what am supposed to speak out, I would mostly find myself speaking aloud my thoughts. But yeah, she was beautiful.

"Staring is not taken lightly… especially if the latter is a princess." She stated. Of course I knew, oh God, I had forgotten, I had already forgotten, the rules,.. the rules of being a man, the rules that we lived years being taught.

"Apologies, it's not what you think," I replied, suddenly finding myself using refined English.

"I sense there's something about you. Why are you behind a piano?" she asked.

"I don't understand your question. It's a job I quite enjoy."

"No, actually, you play the piano quite well, you carry yourself elegantly, and you don't seem to belong to the class you've placed yourself in, if I were to speak in the manner Englishmen do."

I looked at her, she was already filling up her puzzle, I knew I was not the closed book type, I was never the greatest liar, I had a lot of misfortunes on my pact,,, especially in regard to my personality, it would take a little gesture to have me stating I am a bastard on run, it would take me the little bit of manipulation to state that I am the Duke's son, who has been and is being looked for.., for the past almost ending two years or so, it would take a little nervous breakdown to just say the truth, but I suddenly thought of Ezron, if all, these people.., if I stated this, if I dared to say all this,…it would either be the end of me, or the means to an end for me. It always starts with a princess. How did I miss out to that, it is always princesses, even my run, was all brought up by a princess, it has to be one. Maybe there is something about them.

"You keep drifting into deep thoughts," she continued. Just as she was about to say more, Amir appeared.

"Sister, you don't seem like leaving our handsome pianist. Jahul is looking for you, you should go and attend to his needs before things get chaotic."

She frowned slightly at Amir's statement, then looked at me as if saying goodbye or see you later.

"My sister can be quite a nuisance sometimes. Don't mind her. She likes you," Amir began.

"You're from London, or which part of the monarchy?" he asked, showing more interest in my answer than anyone else in the room, aside from the princess, whose name I had yet to learn.

"Bavdon," I replied, after a moment of deciding whether to reveal the place where Ezron lived, Lake Tigris, London, or Bavdon. I seemed to have quite a few places I could call home.

"Oh, my friend, you mentioned Lock. Okay, see, Lock, when I was fifteen to about seventeen, I had a friend from that place, his name was Willock. They called him Vikings, right?" Amir began, and my heart began to race. Was he being dense or slow? Had I changed so much that he couldn't see that nothing had changed except for my facial hair and maybe my skin, bulging muscles, and veined arms? Why was he telling me about this Willock first of all?

"I know the Duke, a great leader indeed."

"You do look familiar to the Duke's son. Anyone could mistake you for him," he stated, studying me closely.

"I don't know what to say. Our fair skin, white hair, and thick British accents seem common in the English lands," I replied, making him smile, as if amused by my response.

"I heard the Duke's son was a bastard," I stated, waiting to see his reaction, perhaps a flinch or a hint of terror. Of course, I had told Amir everything I knew about myself back then, but I was still contemplating what had changed in me that made him not realize it was me all along.

"Oh, bad. I heard bastards aren't treated very well. He used to drown his sorrows because of that. I wonder where he is," Amir added before leaving without another word, leaving me with many reactions I wanted to make but couldn't. Every time I spoke to him, I wanted to tell him the truth, to tell him I was the one he thought I was. However, something always stopped me, the fear that he might betray me. I knew Amir wasn't the type to do that, but after everything that had happened in my life, I couldn't blindly trust anyone. A lot of money had been promised to me, and especially that, made me think much about revealing my identity to just anyone. I had come all through here, just to see Amir, and here I was.., finally met him wirgout even trying hard. And I couldn't get myself to state my wants, and reasons oor rather disclose anything. But the question stil remained, if Amir came to know I was his friend, long lost friend, what was he to do about it?