"𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼, 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮, 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓱𝓸𝔀, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭."
The sky had darkened beneath layers of grey and deep blue clouds.
Although it was still daytime, the garden had already taken on the quietness of evening. A cold breeze passed through the trees, stirring the flowers and leaves from time to time. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled softly, though the rain had yet to come.
In one corner of the garden, the sound of a sword cutting through the air broke the silence.
He had been practising for some time.
There was nothing particularly unusual about sword practice for him, but today his movements were harder, faster. Each strike carried more force than necessary, as if the blade had somehow become the easiest place to put his frustration. His expression remained calm, yet the anger in his eyes betrayed him.
His coat had already begun to feel uncomfortable, and his blonde hair had fallen loose across his forehead. He ignored both.
Eventually, even his anger seemed to run out of strength.
He lowered the sword and took a long breath, looking up at the dark sky. Closed his eyes and he felt the cold air against his warm face.
For a while, he remained there in silence.
Then he heard something.
His eyes opened.
It was not the wind.
Something else.
It came again, faintly, from beyond the trees.
His curiosity got the better of him.
After sheathing his sword, he followed the sound until the trees opened into another part of the garden.
A girl stood among the flowers.
She had long dark brown hair that moved gently behind her whenever the breeze passed. Her pink and white gown looked almost too bright against the darkening garden, though she seemed perfectly at home there.
She had stopped beside a bed of white roses.
There was a softness to her expression as she looked at them. Carefully she remove one of her glove then feeling the soft petals under her fingers she leaned closer, murmuring something under her breath, as though the roses were listening.
He stayed where he was.
He couldn't quite understand what was so interesting about watching someone admire flowers.
Just then a butterfly settled on one of the roses.
The girl's eyes immediately lit up.
She went completely still.
For a moment, even from where he stood, he could see how carefully she was trying not to move. The butterfly remained on the white petals, and she watched it with such quiet happiness that he almost found himself smiling.
Almost.
Then a voice called her from behind.
She turned.
The butterfly flew away.
She looked after it with a tiny pout, clearly unhappy about its sudden departure.
That was when he actually smiled.
He didn't notice it himself.
“My lord.”
The moment was interrupted by his attendant's voice. Who was standing a few steps away.
“You have been summoned inside.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I'll be there in a moment.”
And when his attendant goes away he looked back, the girl was already gone.
He frowned slightly.
The garden seemed strangely empty without her.
His eyes wandered over the flowers and then he found himself walking toward the place she was standing a movment ago and there something caught his attention near the roses.
A glove.
He bent down and picked it up.
It was small and delicate, perhaps she have dropped it without noticing.
He turned it over once in his hand. His thumb softly rub over the fabric.
Then, for some reason, he smiled again.
With the glove still in his hand, he turn back towards the Mansion.
He didn't notice.
He was already walking away, carrying something that did not belong to him.
Behind him, the clouds had begun to part.
A narrow beam of sunlight slipped through and rested over the white roses, a quiet little beginning have had left behind.
