Chapter 44 - Birthday Ball Celebration

Prince Sebastian strolled through the long, polished hallways of the castle, his boots echoing lightly against the marble floor. He had just finished his swordsmanship lesson, and exhaustion weighed on his limbs. He longed for a moment of peace, a place where he could clear his mind.

His thoughts led him to the attic—a secluded space in the palace where no one was allowed to enter except for the King and himself. It was a place he often retreated to, especially when he felt troubled. There, among the forgotten belongings and dust-covered paintings, he could feel close to his mother, Queen Isabela.

However, as he approached the area where the attic stairs were hidden behind a wooden door, something immediately felt wrong. The usually quiet corridor was bustling with activity. Servants were gathered there, their voices filling the air with chatter.

Sebastian's sharp eyes narrowed. 'What were they doing here? No one was supposed to be in the attic.'

His frustration grew when he noticed some of the servant's carrying furniture, paintings, and other objects down the stairs. His mother's things. "Where are you taking that?" he demanded, his voice firm as he quickened his pace toward them.

The startled servants hesitated, unsure how to respond. Some lowered their heads, gripping the items they carried more tightly, while others looked toward Barry, the head butler, as if waiting for him to speak. Ignoring their startled glances, Sebastian pushed past them and rushed up the attic stairs. His heart pounded—not from exhaustion, but from anger.

Upon reaching the attic, he was met with an unsettling sight. Barry stood among several servants, supervising the cleaning efforts. Boxes had been opened, furniture moved, and dust filled the air as maids wiped down the surfaces of old belongings. The once untouched attic now felt like a marketplace, with people sorting through things that should have been left undisturbed. His jaw clenched. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and filled with authority.

Barry turned at the sound of his voice and bowed slightly. "Your Highness," he greeted respectfully, though there was no mistaking the tension in the air. "Princess Vivienne has ordered the attic to be cleaned. Some of these decorations and paintings will be used to brighten the palace halls."

Sebastian's hands curled into fists at his sides. Cleaning was one thing, but taking things from the attic—his mother's things—was another matter entirely. He had never cared much for his aunt's meddling ways, but this time, it felt personal. "You had no right to touch my mother's belongings," he said, his voice lower but no less dangerous. "This attic has remained untouched for a reason."

Barry, ever the composed butler, remained calm. "The paintings and belongings of the late queen are still here, as per my decision," he assured. "Only the other decorations and furniture are being removed."

Sebastian's eyes flickered toward the portraits of his mother, still resting against the attic walls. That, at least, was a relief. He often came here to sit in silence, staring at those very paintings, feeling as if his mother was watching over him. Still, the thought of his aunt interfering with something so sacred to him filled him with resentment.

With a deep breath, he composed himself. "I direct that no further items from my mother's possessions be removed from this attic," he declared. "However," he added, "her paintings are to be hung in prominent locations throughout the palace, that her presence may be remembered," his tone softening.

Barry gave a slight nod of acknowledgment before speaking. "I apologize, Your Highness, but this was an order from your father—the King." Sebastian's expression shifted; his frustration momentarily replaced by surprise. He turned to look at the servants still carrying items out of the attic.

"My father?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. For a brief moment, he stood still, deep in thought. If this was his father's decision, then he needed to hear the reasoning directly. 'I'll talk to him myself,' he decided firmly.

Sebastian remained in the attic as the maids worked in silence, putting back the furniture and other items. He turned toward the largest painting of his mother, her warm smile and kind eyes looking back at him. A heaviness settled in his chest. He came to the attic whenever he felt lost, whenever the weight of the world was too much. Here, in this forgotten place, he could still feel her presence.

As Emily continued dusting off an old wooden chest in the attic, a thought crept into her mind. Does the prince know about the necklace? She glanced toward the young prince, who was still in a heated conversation with Barry. The necklace had belonged to his mother, after all. Would he want it back? But she quickly shook off the thought. It wasn't her place to meddle in such matters. With a quiet sigh, she focused on her task, scrubbing away years of dust and cobwebs.

Meanwhile, the maid entrusted with delivering the necklace carefully made her way through the palace hallways. She held the small golden jewelry box tightly in her hands, nervous about carrying something so precious. She was heading toward the King's chamber when she suddenly encountered Princess Vivienne.

The princess stood tall in the center of the hallway, overseeing the final preparations for her upcoming birthday ball. Servants bustled around, arranging decorations and hurrying to complete their tasks before the grand event. As soon as the maid saw her, she quickly lowered her head in respect and attempted to walk past her. But before she could take another step, Princess Vivienne's sharp voice halted her.

"Stop," the princess commanded, her eyes narrowing. "What is that in your hands? And where are you taking it?" The maid swallowed nervously and clutched the jewelry box tighter. "I-It is a piece of jewelry belonging to Queen Isabela," she stammered, trying to steady her voice. "We found it while cleaning the attic, as you instructed. The butler ordered me to take it to the King."

Princess Vivienne's eyes flickered with something unreadable—curiosity, or perhaps something deeper. Without hesitation, she extended her hand. "Give it to me." The maid blinked in confusion. "But... the King—"

"I said, give it to me," the princess interrupted sharply, her voice firm. "I will deliver it to my brother myself. We cannot entrust something so valuable to just anyone." Her gaze was piercing, leaving no room for argument.

The maid hesitated, glancing down at the box in her hands. Barry had specifically told her to bring it to the King. But the princess was royalty too, and refusing her order could mean trouble. Her hands trembled slightly as she finally gave in, placing the jewelry box into Princess Vivienne's waiting palm.

"Good," the princess said, a small smile playing on her lips. "You may go." The maid wasted no time. Bowing her head quickly, she turned and hurried away, eager to escape the princess's presence. As Vivienne held the box, she carefully traced her fingers over its intricate golden surface. A thoughtful expression crossed her face.

"So, this is where it was hidden all these years..." she murmured to herself. Then, with a knowing look in her eyes, she turned on her heel and walked away, the necklace now in her possession.

As the night deepened, the palace remained alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The grand ball had turned into a magnificent affair, a dazzling display of elegance and unity. Yet, away from the golden chandeliers and flowing gowns, in the quiet solitude of the palace's secluded rose garden, Madeline and Prince Sebastian found solace in each other's company.

Madeline had slipped away from her mother's watchful eye, seeking refuge in the hidden garden where she and Sebastian often met. She sat on a stone bench, waiting patiently, the scent of blooming roses filling the cool night air. Soon, Sebastian arrived, his usual gentle smile appearing as he spotted her. He had just come from the attic, his mind still lingering on thoughts of his mother, but here, in this secret sanctuary, he allowed himself to relax.

They spent the afternoon lost in laughter, playful games, and quiet conversations, speaking of the ball, their worries, and their dreams for the future. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, their carefree moments stretched into the evening.

Sebastian reached out, gently tracing his fingers over the petals of a rose, his thoughtful eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns scattered around them. "This place always feels different from the rest of the palace," he murmured. "Like a hidden world where time slows down."

Madeline smiled, understanding his words. "It does," she agreed. For a while, they stood in silence, listening to the distant melodies of the ball and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Then, Sebastian exhaled, his expression turning somber. "I wish nights like this could last forever."

Madeline turned to him, her gaze steady. "They won't," she admitted. "That's why we have to treasure them while they last." Sebastian looked at her and chuckled. "You sound like a grown-up." Madeline smiled faintly. "I heard it from my mother," she said, but suddenly paused, realization flashing in her eyes.

Sebastian's expression shifted. "Your mother? Do you remember her?" he asked, curiosity and hope lacing his voice. Madeline quickly shook her head, forcing a small laugh. "I meant the maid who took care of me, like a mother," she lied smoothly. Sebastian studied her for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Still, you're right." He hesitated before adding, "No matter what happens, I want you to know that you have a friend in me. Always."

Madeline's heart warmed at his words. A quiet understanding passed between them, an unspoken promise that no matter what the future held, they would always have these moments.

Meanwhile, inside the palace, the ball continued in full swing. Princess Vivienne moved gracefully through the grand hall, commanding attention with her regal presence. Beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, she subtly ran her fingers over the necklace now resting against her collarbone—the late queen's treasured piece. A knowing smile played on her lips, laced with quiet satisfaction. She had no intention of returning it to the King. Not yet.