Chương 3: Flower Wishes
Even with the steady beat of the drums pounding in the air a family of birds still graced the castle garden in song. Most would have fled to a quieter place, yet a handful had stayed behind in the company of the garden's sole occupant. An arrangement of lush green hedge sculptures garnished with red and white roses guarded a corner each, close to the castle walls. Circulating along the stone walls was a sound wooden frame of rafters completely covered in ivy vines to provide shelter from the heat to anyone who chose to observe the garden from its outer perimeter below. Everywhere there was plant life of all kinds including a small area dedicated to the wildlife they had received over the years as gifts from the Waning Sands. In the center of it all was a large sundial, not far from the shadow of the minute arm crossing over to a new hour.
Beyond that, closer to the garden's entrance was a stone well. Old may have been a too generous world for it. There was not a single stone in it that hadn't been cracked or chipped across it. The rafter above creaked anytime a gust of wind rolled by, unsteady and sounded as though it'd collapse at any second. Weeds and roots could be seen climbing their way up along the side of the walls. It was the only thing in the garden that time seemed to touch, having never been repaired or even polished. Moss collected in the cracks and all around the insides. No one knew why it was a castle tradition to not replace the well with something more sightful or at least repair, but it had been a tradition that stemmed back centuries, lost in the archival records of the royal library.
Flower petals always floated in the air with grace and beauty, even the ones ripped prematurely from their home. The way they fluttered down softly looked ever painless as they descended into their final resting place, void of light. As the petals twirled and rocked in the air, spring warmth was replaced with a damp, slight chill and then suddenly being taken away into a heavy soak, surrounded by circular stone walls.
Prince Snow continued plucking petals from the number of flowers he had gathered from around the palace garden and sending them off into the well one after another, muttering whatever nonsense came to his mind. A smile was on his face all the while. "Stuck in a stone prison…I never thought I'd be comparing myself to a flower like this," he teased himself as he tossed in the final petal. Taking the stem, Snow began to tie it into a much larger collection, threading them all together until they were tightly woven into a thin, but sturdy strap.
Another flower was picked up and another petal plucked. He smiled. "I wish…" Snow wasn't able to finish his statement when suddenly another person made their presence known, hurling themselves from atop of the well's rafters and hanging upside down over the edge. The sudden invasion of personal space frightened the young prince, causing him to jump back with a small shout and reach for the dagger on the hilt of his belt until he realized who it was.
The person before him upheld a cocky face, despite the blood rushing to his head. Dressed in a white robe and vest with gold trim made from fine silks, the sleeves were airy to match his harem pants. A small cape hung from behind, falling along the well's walls, and even spilling inside. His turban had slipped off and tumbled to the ground. Dark hair dangled, swishing to and fro, and shook his head.
"Aren't you a little too old to be tossing petals into a beggar's well? What? Hoping someone will finally fall in love with you?" His friend said, taunting him as he continued to hang about. The way he spoke indicated his light-hearted and joking personality.
"My mother never was, and neither is my father. Why should I ever be?" Snow stepped forward to playfully push aside the other's face. "Aren't you a little too old to be jumping out from high places to scare others, Prince Ali?" Charm was present in his speech as his eyes glanced up at Ali's legs, barely holding him in place. He smirked, waiting for it….
"I'm afraid I can't hear you without my glasses on, Prince Snow." Cocky as ever, Ali swung himself from side to side and even did a few pull-ups as a means to show off. The rafters creaked. "A pity. I'd love to stay here and listen to your witless remarks all day but- " SNAP! There it was. The messy compiled roof of the well collapsed under Ali's weight, sending him plummeting to a new watery home along with all the necessary sticks and leaves to begin building shelter, like a beaver. Prince Snow only laughed at the splashing echoes as dust and debris clouded around momentarily.
He waved the air clear before he reached over the edge to help the other escape. "Funny. Normally you're the one pulling me over stone walls," he grunted as he heaved the other prince into the warm sun. Water dripped from Ali's soaked robe, splashing and pooling over the stone walkway around them.
"True. When did our roles become reversed?" Steam was already starting to rise from Ali's body, heavy from water absorbed by his clothes. When he finally was outside the well and standing on his own two feet, Ali just stretched and shook his limbs about as he continued steaming. At a glance, it would look like his clothes had caught fire, yet Snow showed no concern or worry about what was happening, as though this were normal. Ali loved to show off, to find any excuse to display his abilities, and this was just another time for it. Within seconds he was dry again. "Never liked this old well, anyway!" he said as he gave it a light kick. "Things' so old I can't believe your family never once replaced it!"
"Yet, you knew exactly where to find me, didn't you? It's always been here even before my grandfather was alive. Father tells me he often considered it his thinking spot when he was young, as did my mother. Often, he has said that he tossed a coin into it before he asked for her hand, and once more before he remarried." He chuckled for a moment. "They both believed in its magic, and it worked. So why shouldn't I?"
Ali smirked for a moment, giving him a side-eye as he put two and two together. "Hmph. Fine, I guess it's not that terrible. A royal family always has to have something old and near worthless they hold dear, don't they?"
"As if your family doesn't have anything like that yourself?" Snow gave a light punch to Ali's ribs.
"Hey, no attacks on the royals, now! Another blow and this joyous visit will end in war declaration, mark my words!"
Snow raised a brow and smirked at him. "Oh, you mean like the time you pulled me over the castle wall when we were kids and we ran into the village together? Remember how our fathers thought someone was responsible for a kidnapping?" He had since resumed sitting along the stone's edge, working with the vines once more and sending petal after petal into the well. "Someone was almost executed because of that idea of yours."
"You always love to leave out the part where you started crying in the middle of the street until I held your hand when we were lost. You were such a baby back then!" Ali knelt to collect his turban and then remained standing tall, arms crossed over his chest and a single eyebrow raised.
"And you always love to leave out the part where you panicked and accidentally set one of the market shops on fire. You just had to grow into your magic right then, didn't you?"
"Hey, it got people's attention! At least father was able to pay for it all. If I hadn't then the guards wouldn't have noticed us and took us back to the castle!"
"You almost destroyed an entire shopping district," Snow laughed as he tightened the last of the vines together. He had been so focused on his handiwork that he almost fell backwards into the well on his own when he looked up to see sparks and flares swerving in the air before him, and encircle him until the flames took shape. Thin lines connected and buzzed about, the fire imitating the image of a dozen dragonflies, flickering, and then dispersing into smoke trails.
"I got better," Ali boasted with pride as he snapped his fingers.
Magic had once all been thought to be illusions and myths told to entertain children, but as myth became a legend, over centuries faith had brought fiction to reality. Enchantments of all sorts were something that no one was a master of. Humans were known to only be blessed with elemental magic at birth. It was still unknown exactly what determines one's chance of developing any magical talent, most having grown into their abilities by the end of childhood.
Ali and his sister were both skilled in controlling fire, and it had been predicted by their father's vizier, Jafar, upon their birth. No one could have guessed that it was the very prediction that sparked it into reality. The kingdom had rejoiced over the two, faith cast upon the royal family to have been blessed by the heavens with two magic children before any signs of such even showed. Faith blossomed in the kingdom and so the divine granted their prayers. By the age of twelve, both had accidentally burned down a section of their own kingdom's royal garden amid a duel, spitting flames at one another.
Yet some, such as Snow, had different circumstances. Anyone who had ever examined him, hugged him, even gently brushed the tip of his hand could recall how deathly chilled he felt, yet the prince had not once shown any level of discomfort. Doctors of all kinds had asked, only to receive the same answer. "I don't feel anything," Tho ice magic had been predicted by King Arthur's own enchantress, and now well into adulthood, Snow still showed not even the capability to conjure a snowflake from the tip of his finger.
There was a short, calming silence between them save the sounds of birds chirping about. The Sand's drums had come to silence, indicating that they had arrived at the palace. With his turban back on straight, Ali shifted so that he could face Snow directly, eyes meeting softly. Their hands touched lightly before Ali slipped Snow's into his own. "I've missed you," he finally hushed as he placed a gentle kiss on the other's forehead. His skin was cool as ice, pleasant and sweet to his usually heated body.
"I've missed you, too," Snow whispered as he placed a hand to rest at the crook on Ali's neck and shoulder. He was more than eager to feel the other's warmth, practically claim it for himself had it not been for their clothes blocking passage to skin contact.
Ali parted only for a moment to reach up into the folds of his turban and pull out something, concealing it in his hand. "For you," he said as he humbly held out a small blossom in his palm, rich in color, bright and purple. "They bloom in the desert and don't last long once they're picked. Difficult to find and even harder to cultivate! Yet, when we chanced by a small cactus in bloom I thought of you. It's considered a blessing, much like my thoughts about you." A faint crimson glow appeared on Ali as he spoke. Gently, he held the flower by what little stem it had left and was slow to place it in Snow's dark hair, around his ear.
"Thank you," he said softly. Snow could only hum as he looked down at the vines in his hand. Weaving wristbands out of ivy had been a small trick his mother had taught him when he was a child. Even a decade later he still had vivid memories of her, how she'd laugh and wear his poorly made straps and flower crowns with pride, proclaiming herself to be Titania, the mighty and feared queen of fairies, a nymph of the woods, and whatever other fantasy they both came up with. A melancholy feeling surrounded Snow as he brushed it with his finger. "Um...this isn't much of a gift in return, but do hold out your wrist for me."
Without hesitation Ali placed his hand in Snow's lap, smiling at him without a word.
"And this…is just a simple woven bracelet. It doesn't mean much to our people, but it was something I learned when I was very young. It symbolizes my boredom, and dedication to a single task no matter how repetitive it can be." Despite the sarcasm, Snow still displayed grace and care. Pale hands weaved the final knots together, tightening the trinket around Ali's tan wrist, making sure to give enough room to not choke a vein or irritate the skin. "Still, I suppose you can think of it as a way of binding lives together," he said, half-embarrassed - half desperate. "Tada! And it didn't have to be stolen this time."
"I'll wear it until it rots off my arm," Ali spoke with pride. His eyes were clear and focused, with no jokes and playfulness as he stared into Snow's own. He pulled himself away to lean over the well, standing beside Snow. The two were silent for a moment, each letting out of a deep breath, enjoying each other's presence. Ali's hand reached over between them to firmly clasp over the other's. His eyes couldn't help but admire the contrast of their skin. Every year he could have sworn Snow had grown paler as if he was deathly ill, possibly undead had it not been for him in decent shape and always exerting energy and grace. His touch was cool and smooth, soft like snow.
It had become almost an addiction to be within arm's reach of each other, Snow all too eager to take hold and absorb Ali's heat he radiated, magic burning fiercely within his spirit. He smiled over to Ali as he squeezed his fingers, and rubbed along the backside of his hand. The Arabian's copper tone met his lips in a kind gesture, returning the one he had been shown earlier. They were two men of different personalities and different cultures. All that was similar to the two was ebony hair.
"I hope you're prepared for a tiring week; even more gruesome months to follow," Snow finally spoke up, keeping his eyes fixed into the depths of the well.
"It'll be worth it, once it's all settled. Our kingdoms are to be united…and you shall be a great king, Snow."
"Please, no talk of politics, now. There will be plenty of that very soon, anyway….Come, let's get a move on, shall we?"
"Am I to believe you're wanting to attend to your duty properly, or are you ordering me to pull you over the stone walls, yet again?"
Snow only smiled and nodded his head. He smirked, refusing to give a proper answer.
Ali returned a devilish, knowing look and began to tug him along.
The castle clock tower rang in a new hour.
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