With my heart threatening to burst out of my chest and my palms growing increasingly sweatier by the second, I make my way onto the stage, accompanied by my brothers.
Slowly but surely, we get through our performance, in what can thankfully be described as perfect synchrony.
With our full set usually lasting anywhere between 45 and 50 minutes, this much shorter mini-set made the atmosphere a lot easier to handle, especially when surrounded by people who saw us grow up, both as people and as a band, and who seemed to look up at us with glowing, adoring eyes, making the anxiety around the performance dissipate and completely disappear. At that moment, it was only us and our lovely home crowd.
A roaring applause follows the end of our set, and I nervously set down my violin in order to give the crowd a bow.
Seemingly appearing from nowhere, the mayor comes behind me, his hand sneaking around my waist as he places himself between Greg and myself. My eye twitches, but I try my best to keep my composure, his hand feeling like a cold bag of ice on my vertebrae. "Another round of applause for Dravia's very own kingdom-wide success: the Olivette's!". Thunderous applause follows, then one more bow, and we finally see ourselves out the stage so the rest of the ceremonies can proceed.
Backstage, I immediately collapse on the nearest chair, hands on my hair as I try to steady my breath from all the singing and playing mixed with terrorised anxiety. My brother's voice breaks me out of my trance.
"They were clapping! They were actually fucking clapping!" Greg exclaims in ecstasy, his excited and bruised guitar-playing hands punching the air.
"Yes, Gregory, I heard the clapping, no need to reiterate it." I state, head still down as I pray for my anxiety and nerves to take away the headache they brought.
"Not the public, dumdum. That's not news. Them. The royal fucking box was clapping for us." He explains, a statement which immediately makes me snap my head up.
I stare at Hyde, who nods slowly. "It was more of a polite clap, the royal couple didn't really seem engaged in clapping, but the two little snot-faced princes actually stood up to clap. They seemed excited."
"I think I'm gonna throw up." My head snaps back down, brain spinning with the added information.
"Please don't. We got shit to sell. And YOU have to go back to YOUR booth because I do not know how to convince people to spend their silver on watercolour paintings." Greg then places a hand on my shoulder, only half-jokingly.
His response makes me giggle, until I feel a bit of bile come up my throat and immediately push it down with a cup of water, brought to me by Belle Klein, the Sunshine from Sunshine & Thunder. "You truly brought this crowd to life, dear. You three should be very proud of yourselves."
"Greggy here is proud enough for the three of us, but thank you, anyway. Your act was fascinating, I'm sorry the mayor cut it short." Hyde tells her, his eyes shining with sincerity and a flame of anger.
"I was already expecting it to happen. I'm honestly surprised it went on for as long as it did." She replies.
"It's complete horseshit, though. Art is supposed to make people uncomfortable, to make us think and feel things we don't always get to feel. If they're just gonna censor you they might as well censor us all." He continues, making Greg and I raise an eyebrow at his newly found courage to discuss his political vein, a gift inherited from our father which he rarely shares with anyone.
"Only weak people are threatened by art. Them stopping my set says more about them than it says about me." Belle finishes.
"I couldn't agree more." Hyde says, a shadow of a human smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
Greg and I sneak our way out of the backstage tent and pivot back to our corner of the festival, letting out a burst of laughter when we're far enough to not be heard by the political masterminds we left behind. "Who would've thought little Hyde-y was ready to spread his wings." I comment, completely shocked by the sudden change in personality our brother experienced.
"And his seed. And hopefully her legs." Greg adds, laughing.
"By the Lord, Greg, don't be gross. That's your brother." I roll my eyes, cheeks burning as the thought of Hyde as a sexual human being suddenly occurs to me for the first time.
"Which is why I have all the right to be gross."
Back at our stall, we find a vision of paradise. At least a baker's dozen of people fighting over themselves to reach the stall, and many more leaving with creams, soaps and some of my paintings, while a very excited Sybil and a very nervous Aurelia struggle to keep up with all the orders.
"Someone said one of the princes wanted to visit the stall, so people came directly here. Isn't that crazy?" Sybil giggles.
"It sure is. I have a feeling maybe one of your little friends might've started that rumour." I whisper at her. "But no one needs to know that now."
I take over the sales, allowing my mother to take a break while Sybbie insists on staying to help, packaging all the orders and handing them over to our customers.
I chat here and there with some of them, talking about our adventures on the road, thanking them for their praises to our set, acknowledging the honour it is to have the Crown clap for us in our own home, and answering questions about the effects of our products and where future purchases can be made in the event that they run out.
In the middle of one of the sales, as I am explaining to a customer the reason behind the price of the painting of the day, the one of the royal couple, displayed in the centre front of the stall, I hear a dozen gasps all around us. Suddenly, the crowd of customers dissipates, making way for sky blue capes and reinforced steel armours hoisting swords on their waists.
The men create a wall around their masters, a sort of path which allows them to pass through the crowd without having to bother interacting with them.
Silence surrounds us. Nobody says a word. Sybil's eyes bug in a way I assume they might explode out of her head, and my hands start dripping with sweat.
There, in front of me, stand half of the Royal Family of the Kingdom of Celestia. King Manuel, dressed in his dark blue military elegant uniform; Queen Zinnea, wearing an extravagant sky blue dress which almost perfectly matches the colour of the capes of the royal guard; and two of the six Princes of the Crown, both extremely freckled, if varying in age, and one sporting glasses and a conservative, almost religious-looking outfit, while the other wears an elegant suit in matching sky blue like his mother, with a sash.
With my mouth dry, and unable to remember the names of the princes, I bow. "Your Majesties, Crown Princes, it is an honour." I state.
Sybil follows right after me. "We are humbled by your presence."
It is unnerving to think Sybil likely had classes on how to address monarchy, a very new type of teaching that didn't exist when I was young, part of the newly found necessity to "educate the masses about their superiors" seeing as our Prime Minister discovered about a decade ago there seemed to be a lack of knowledge and understanding as to the titles and roles of the members of the Royal Family.
"We wished to come by and pay our respects to the most talented act in the show. In all our travels, we had yet to see a group so visually and vocally appealing, you ought to be quite proud of yourselves!" The youngest of the two princes, whose name still escapes me, exclaims. My mouth stands agape, no sound coming out of it as I try to make sense of the extensive vocabulary of a child which seems so young and the praise he's bestowing onto me, while my brain curses my brothers for having abandoned me here to fend for myself.
My sister, ever the eloquent and precocious thing she is, speaks for me. "We are honoured to know you have enjoyed the show, Prince Lark. Our family band cannot be happier to have been able to play before such distinguished guests, right Linny?"
I finally snap out of my stupidity, flashing a kind smile to the little boy whose name I now know. "Yes, of course. Thank you for the honour, Prince Lark."
"Are you the band leader?" The little prince asks.
"No, my prince. That would be my older brother, Gregory, who's a bit busy carrying our equipment back home. He will no doubt be seething with anger when he discovers he lost the chance to meet your majesties." I half-joke.
"We would certainly adore meeting your brothers as well! And you must be…?" He turns to Sibby.
"Sybil Olivette, my prince. Future member of the Olivette's, if things go my way." She winks at me. "But for now simply another humble artist in this incredibly talented family who struggles to stand out."
"I can understand that." He jokes. I look behind the princes, their parents standing with kind yet slightly annoyed faces, but still refusing to make eye contact or speak. "So these are yours?" He asks Sibby, pointing at the paintings.
"Oh, I wish. I'm an amateur seamstress, but I couldn't bring anything today because my mother says I'm too young for such things. The artist who made these is my sister, Linnea." She states, pointing her head towards me.
"You don't say." The Queen finally speaks. "What a multi-talented young woman you are, my dear. A singer, violinist, painter…"
"She also taught me to sew, your Majesty." Sybil completes, making me point my eyes towards the ground.
"You've made all of these paintings?" The Queen continues.
I nod. "Yes, your Majesty."
She steps closer to my rendition of their wedding, eyes glossing over the details as her fingers dance around the dress. "It is us, my dear." She comments, head snapping back towards the King.
"We certainly look older than we were." The King chuckles. "But it is a truly fantastic piece."
"Thank you, your Majesty. The ages were modelled after my parents, as we have a painting of their wedding at home. All of the other details were taken from our travels. I tried to interview older citizens about their recollections and ended up with a sketch, then asked my mother what she felt the day she married my father, and she described such a stupendous feeling of happiness and excitement, her eyes actually glowed when she spoke about it. I assumed the way your Majesty felt must've been the same." I explain.
"About the same, yes." The Queen smiles a half-smile, fingers still tracing the dress on the painting.
"How much?" The King asks, sending my brain once more into a completely blank canvas. I stare at Sybil, unsure if I should actually quote the King a price or not, as he is the King and him wanting to acquire one of my paintings is likely the biggest honour I could possibly think of. Sybil decides for me, quoting him a price about 50% higher than originally. She goes on to explain the time and materials used and how that affects the price, while the King and Princes stare at her with a small smile on their lips. "Sold. You have a very fierce negotiator in your family, my dear." The King laughs.
"Your Majesty, I have no words to express my gratitude. You have surely made me the happiest woman in the kingdom on this very day." I say with sincerity, bowing my head.
"There is no need to thank us, your talent is gratitude enough." He states.
As I begin to seal the painting, Sybil collects the money from one of the soldiers, placing it in our box, then turns to me with the greatest puppy eyes only she can muster. "Linny, the prince has asked me if I could show him around the fair. Would that be okay?"
I smile, but part of me wishes to say no, as I think of the fury my mother will feel when she finds out her youngest child is escorting a male member of the royal family completely unsupervised. "Do not worry, our guards will follow right behind, your sister will not face any danger." The eldest prince states, giving me no choice but to agree.
"Very well, then. Just be careful, and try not to show off too much, aye?" I joke.
"Me? Show off? Why, I would never!" Sybbie laughs, strolling away engulfed in a conversation which made them seem like old friends.
"You're quite used to travelling, no?" The Queen asks as I finish wrapping up their painting.
"Oh, yes, your Majesty. We're practically always on the road. In fact, I believe I haven't been in the same place for over two weeks in about 5 years." I state.
"Would you like to be?"
"Of course, someday. This life is beautiful, and I have made many incredible memories, but at the end of the day, it cannot last forever." I admit "My mother always said that to build something that lasts you must first start by planting some roots."
"Your mother's a very wise woman."
I nod in agreement. The Queen then offers me what I can only describe as an attempt at an earnest smile, while the one on the King's face seems likely genuine. They say their goodbyes, and I bow, eyes facing the floor until the moment they leave, followed by a sea of blue capes flying in the wind in unison.
It takes about 30 minutes for me to recover from the absolute shock of having seen, first hand, the royal family, as well as spoken to them. It feels surreal that I should be the one to be subjected to such an encounter, while my family is out doing other important work. If it wasn't for the presence of Sybbie, nobody would ever believe me.
That half an hour is also about the time it took for my brothers to come back, and mother to return from her walk about the fair, her mouth overflowing with the gossip she had heard. By the time she finds us, I am attempting to explain to my brother how the whole situation unfolded.
"Tell me what I heard isn't true and you weren't laughing and galavanting with the royal family, my dear child." Aurelia states, hands waving off a customer or two, who laugh as they allow her to come through the stall.
"I did no such thing as galavanting, mother. I was kind, and cordial, as one is supposed to be. And they bought my painting, the big one." I explain. "How else was I supposed to treat them, mother?"
"Brief, cold, to the point. As I would have." She states.
My brothers and I exchange a look, and laugh, before going right back into our conversation.
The rest of the day passes relatively easy. Customers come and go, and by the end of the day after checking the books, we are all pleased to see how beautiful the numbers are in comparison to the expectations we had.
As the sunset starts to grace us, giving me endless inspiration for future portraits, I pack up the little art I had left, thinking about bringing it on the road in an attempt to make some extra gold, which always comes in hand. We also pack up the rest of our things, and I remember to thank my brothers for doing the heavy lifting earlier and taking our instruments, meaning all that's left now are my paintings and the care products we couldn't sell, which also weren't that many, and won't spoil so easily.
With everything packed into the buggy, we begin to make our way back home, saying goodbye to this fascinating little day, with my hands instantly reaching for some pen and ink in my bag to start drafting today's journal entry, the first thing I plan on doing once we arrive.
The lights are already on in the Olivette abode. Father was the first one back, bringing Sybil with him, while mother stayed behind to supervise the correct removal and transportation of our products. Inside, we find an excited Sybil gushing about her day with the Prince to a tired-looking but responsive Saint, who smiles down at her, spoon in hand, and gives her the go ahead to start setting the table.
"You kids go straight to clean up, we can set everything down tomorrow morning, you deserve some rest." Mother says, bringing sighs of relief out of the three of us, and starting a race for who reaches the kettle first.
Gregory wins, by cheating, but is fiercely stopped by an angry Sybil, who stomps her foot down. "Linny should get to first! She sold a painting to the royal family! What have YOU done, Greg?"
"Played an amazing set in front of 200 people in our biggest show yet and carried our instruments back to save us the hassle of doing it later. Apart from, you know, being the leader of the band who made the King and Queen stop at the family stall in the first place!" He argues.
"Excuses." She rolls her eyes. "Here, Linny, you go first." With her kitchen gloves on, she hands me the first kettle, placing the second by the fire. I laugh as Greg gets ready to protest. "Keep talking and you'll be the last!"
"Who was gonna be the last then, you?" He asked.
"Oh, I already bathed." She laughs. "Last was gonna be Hyde because he ate the last slice of cake and thought I wouldn't notice."
"I'll just bathe tomorrow morning, little slug." Hyde chuckles.
–
After a long, luxurious bath and a bit of writing, I drag my body to the kitchen, feet swollen from the day of carrying heavy load, dancing and singing, spent without sitting for more than 5min, a head spinning with ideas for future paintings and a whirlwind of scenes from earlier in the day.
"So, would you like to share with us your perspective of this fantastic encounter Sibby cannot stop gushing about?" Greg asks as we sit down to eat.
"If you wish to do so, daughter. You're under no obligation, it was your special moment after all." My father, ever the peacemaker he is, says.
"I wouldn't qualify it as special as much as it was… odd." I start, watching as everyone's eyes grow bigger, forks left on their plates and ears ready for a story. "The princes were quite kind, they seemed to have genuinely enjoyed our show. The king is cordial, if a bit cold. But the queen is… strange. I know not how to explain it, she's peculiar in her manner of speech and presentation, like she's harbouring a secret about myself I do not yet know." I explain.
"Perhaps it's because she's a foreigner. I have heard time and time again how the people of Valeria are strange and have even stranger customs. Her mother is also known for not being the most perfumed flower." Hyde states.
I nod. "That might be why, although I'd love to know Valeria someday, they say the Kingdom has an incredible education system. It is why the Heir was sent there to study."
"He was sent there so he'd become exactly like his viper of a mother." My mother scoffs.
"I don't know, mother. They didn't seem evil, only cold. I imagine the family isn't really used to interacting with us, so it might be odd for them to see us and speak to us."
"The princes are quite nice, and very funny. Lark told me such incredible stories about running around the palace causing trouble, they had to change governess about 6 times because he kept scaring them off!" Sybil laughs. "Fern is a lot more reserved, though. Reminded me a bit of how the king was acting. He wishes to take the veil." She explains, shocking everyone on the table.
"And how did you come to know such information, Missy? I sure hope you weren't chatting away while the customers were waiting, or in front of the royal family!" Our mother exclaims, hawk eyes fixated on Sybil.
Sybil stares at me, eyes pleading for help as we both panic. I choose to take the blow for the both of us, unable to lie to my own mother in that moment. "Sybil was invited by the princes to take a quick stroll around the fair, she showed them around then came right back. It seemed harmless in the moment so I allowed her to go."
My mother drops her fork, her eyes now on me. "You did what?"
"My darling…" Father starts.
"They could've mocked her, hurt her, paraded her around like their little pet! We don't know these people, Linnea! How could you be so foolish!"
"That is quite enough, my dear. They meant no harm, especially not in the middle of such an adoring crowd, they wouldn't risk their family image." Father interjects.
"No, their parents wouldn't risk their family image, children will always be children. Especially when given such imense power. I cannot believe I am only now finding out about this." My mother huffs.
"We were accompanied by the royal guards, mother. They were very chivalrous." Sybil attempts to defend herself.
"Of course they were, as long as that's what the princes wanted them to be!" Mother fights back. "Very well, it's over now, we can discuss this tomorrow." She states, noticing the look of disapproval in my father's eyes, a tell-tale sign she had gone far but still had time to wind back. "Tell me, what did you talk about during this walk of yours?"
"Lark did most of the talking, Fern maybe got in a word or two, although he didn't seem too excited to speak anyways. He told me about their life in the palace, but didn't mention his parents much, only to speak of how proud his father was that one of his sons was taking the veil. Although I suppose with so many of them it was bound to happen that one joined the church." She shrugged. "Then we talked about our favourite games and food, and Lark insisted on buying lemonade and pastries for all of us, also the guards."
"He seems like a very kind boy." Father smiles.
Sybil nods eagerly. "He's very sweet, but seems so lonely. Even in a family so big, he said most of his siblings just keep to themselves. Fern is always studying for priesthood; Prince Cassian has just moved away to Acradya, I think, to complete his studies, he wants to be a musician and go to the Royal Academy of Music once he's done." She states, glancing at my father for correction.
"He must be studying in the Royal College, most of the minor royals go there. That's where the Heres went before they moved him to Valeria." Father nods.
Sybil continues. "Prince Alston is never home, he's always away with their uncle, the Prime Minister, but Lark said he hates it; he's very close to his sister Ismelda, and says she's very nice and incredibly smart, and that his uncle always says she reminds him of the former Queen; the Heres, Oreon, is always in his study learning about government or in trips with his Uncle and other Ministers, but he's fond of him; and, finally, there's Arwen…"
"The bastard." Greg interrupts.
"Don't call him that!" Sybil fights back.
"That's what he is, no? The King's bastard?" Greg laughs. "Still a whole lot more important than a regular bastard, so…" He shrugs.
"Continue, little slug." Hyde incentivises, seeing how happy Sybil is to share her day.
"Lark says Arwen is very fun, and whenever he comes around they play for hours and he tells of all his fantastic stories from the other Kingdoms. The Queen really wants him to get engaged soon, to a high-born Duchess or something. Lark says, and Fern agrees, that he would make a fantastic Prime Minister once their uncle steps down, but he's in the Royal Military Academy now, on his way to be a Royal General. I suppose it's also a good position." She shrugs.
"I suppose the High Cabinet would never allow a bastard to be Prime Minister, no matter whose son he is." Father shakes his head. "I've also heard good things of the Celestia boy."
"You have?" I ask.
"Yes, one of the new teachers of Sound and Melody at the University used to work for the Acradya College, he taught violin to the Celestia boy, said he's very competent and applied his all to learning, but in the end it wasn't for him, he's more of a muscle than a brain, I guess." Father explains. "Don't think he had much of a choice in the matter, but I'm sure after he settles down the dust will too."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, he's being semi-legitimised, because the Kingdom of Celestia doesn't recognise bastards fully, so he will inherit nothing, but the King has made the decision to recognise him as his own, meaning he's allowed a place on their table and in their home, as well as in the best schools. To be fully recognised as a member of royalty, however, he'd have to marry well, and marry titled money. Money alone wouldn't get him royal status, but title alone would leave him broke, he needs both." Father explains. "Money so he and his children don't starve, and title so he's allowed to be closer to the level of his siblings."
"How sad that is, don't you think his siblings would help provide for him?"
"Who knows what will happen once the King is dead, maybe they will, maybe they won't. It's a tough guess." Father shakes his head.
"They say he's devilishly handsome, though." Greg snickers. "So I doubt it will be difficult for him to find some dumb rich noble woman."
"You have very little faith in our sex, it seems, brother." I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm sure those women have as much to win as he does, who wouldn't want to belong to the King's family?" My mother starts to sneakily raise her hand. "I know, mother. But for their kind, it is the dream. I'm sure there are plenty of ladies circling him already."
"You seem to be oddly familiar with the wants and needs of women for someone who has barely spoken two words to a man outside of this family in all your 22 years of life." Hyde smiles.
I bite my tongue before stating I have spoken to plenty of women, though, which is why I would understand them and simply roll my eyes, not bothering to think of an answer.
"Let's move on from this odious family, please." My mother begs. "I can't bear hearing about them anymore."
We share a laugh, but are interrupted by the sound of strong knocks coming from the front door. My father knits his eyebrows together, glancing around the table. We are not expecting anyone, but perhaps a customer wishes to speak with mother about her products? Or a curious neighbour who wants some gossip?
Father gets up and walks to the door, his serious face ready to intimidate whoever has ruined his sacred family dinner. In the dining room, we sit still and very quiet, waiting to hear the voices of whoever is outside.
"Who do you think…" Greg starts.
"Shh!" Hisses Sybil.
"Everyone we know knows it's dinner time!" Hyde comments.
After some hushed words are exchanged, I finally hear my father's voice, loud and clear. "Linnea, come to the door, please." He sounds serious, but peaceful. Not the voice of someone who recognised the person on the other side of the door, not the voice of someone who just saw a family friend, or a student.
I stand up, making my way to the front door. "Coming." I shout back.
As I arrive, the vision shocks me. My father places his hand on my shoulder, before making his way back to the dining room, but stops a few steps out of the main hall, and I feel his presence near me, although out of my sight.
At door, stands a soldier of the Royal Guard. He bows his head to me when I arrive. "Miss Linnea Olivette, this is for you." He states, handing me a white envelope decorated in gold.
I put my hand out, taking the envelope, my fingers dancing over the beautiful and elegant paper, with delicate calligraphy. I recognise the coat of arms of the Royal Family, my blood runs cold, what a kind way to thank us for our set. "Thank you." I smile at the soldier, who nods. "Would you like a glass of lemonade? Or water?"
"No, thank you, miss." He seems confused by the offer, before bowing slightly and making his away back to the carriage, which I now see standing outside our home. I glance outside, eyebrows raising as I notice a strand of blonde hair and a pair of icy blue eyes glancing at me for half a second, before the carriage takes off. Perhaps it was my imagination.
I close the door and make my way back into the dining room. "Well?" Sybil is the first to burst the silence.
"Is it money? Tell me it's money." Greg asks.
"You don't have to read it now, my dear. You can do it later if you'd like." My father states.
"No, I'd like to read it now. I might faint if I do this alone." I half-joke, sitting back down.
As much as it pains me to violate such a beautiful work of art as that envelope is, I break through the seal, unveiling a letter is even more delicate calligraphy than was inside. I clear my throat before starting.
"Dear Miss Olivette,
We were very touched by your heartfelt painting of our wedding. Recently, the former Miss Daphne Stewart, now Baroness Daphne of Trently, has decided to resign from her position of Royal Artist, as expected, due to her recent marrying the Baron of Trently.
Due to this event, we have been looking for a new Royal Artist to join our Royal Entertainment Staff, and your painting has made a very big impression on the both of us.
We would like to invite you to move with us to Acradya and join the talented troupe of other creatives in bringing happiness and joy to us and our distinguished guests.
As our stay in Dravia will be quite short, since we must make our way through the other Sectors, we can only offer until the morrow, at 10 in the morning, to make your decision. Should you choose to accept, our guards will be waiting for you outside your home, in the morrow, at exactly 10:15.
We hope you will choose to say yes, but we understand if you do not feel ready.
Humbly,
Queen Zinnea of Celestia."
My lips go dry when I finish, and I instantly reach for my glass of water. "This must be a joke. Tell me it's a joke." I say, paper still in hand, my fingers gripping the once smooth surface as if letting go would make it disappear.
"You have a very important choice to make, my dear daughter." My father is the first to break the silence.
"Is it really a choice, though?" Hyde proposes, hand resting over mine.
"That's a great question, is it?" My mother asks, her once hawk sharp eyes filled with fear and concern.
I feel myself shaking, and tears pool around my eyes. It feels like I've just received a golden ticket and a punch in the stomach at the same time. I look around, the room filled with the people who matter the most to me, the people whom I love more than anything in the world. My eyes go from Hyde, who still squeezes my hand tightly; to my mother, whose eyes water like mine, her lips pursed; to my father, who smiles kindly; to my dear Sybil, her hands slapped together on her nose and mouth, half-covering a wide smile; finally, my eyes land on Gregory, and he nods slowly, eyes never leaving mine. I smile at him, tears finally rolling down my face. "It's not."