Chapter Text
In Oscar Pines 15 years of life, he had never once thought he would get to appreciate the luxury of the Royal Schnee parties. They were deemed for the high class only, and unfortunate for him, he was born a farmer. His life was good, despite the hardships he and his Aunt would face. Living on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Atlas had its perks, such as a constant freedom from the heavy onslaught of guards. The entirety of Atlas was under Captain Ironwood's watchful eye, and the impoverished were mistreated most by him. Deemed thieves and criminals just for trying to survive. Despite the perks of living far away from all the order, Oscar couldn’t help but want more. Desire more. He could only take this repetitive life for so long, he needed something new.
When the letters went out, he could hardly believe it. Letters from the Schnee Castle, from the royal family themselves, inviting all citizens of Atlas to attend a ball. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he had to attend. Letting his Aunt see the letter, signed with the royal family's seal, she got to work with preparing new clothes for Oscar to wear.
The Schnees were deemed royalty by their powers, as was every royalty. In Remnant, one was made royal if they possessed some type of magic powers, such as Queen Glynda, ruler of the Kingdom of Beacon. Her magic was telekinesis, a power that allowed her to move and control objects as she saw fit. For the Schnees, they had a hereditary magic called glyphs, allowing them to summon creatures and use the glyphs to exert force on objects and act as solid surfaces. The Schnees were by far, the most magically gifted of all royal families. Peasant folk however, were born magicless. They had to resort to money and their own power to get to the top. Oscar's aunt had found her power in running a farm. Oscar had never been sure if being a farmer was right for him, but he loved his aunt and she gave him a bed and roof, so there wasn’t much he could complain about.
But now, he would get to stand in the same room as a Schnee. He was invited to the ball. Oscar knew he shouldn’t have felt so honoured, as every citizen of Atlas was granted an invite, and yet he couldn’t help it. The buzz in his heart only grew as he made his long walk to the castle. He had only ever been as close as the outskirts of Atlas. The kingdom worked in a spiral, the poor and weak, lived on the outside. While the powerful and wealthy lived inside the very spiral itself. Surrounded by people of all class types that got lower the closer to the end of the spiral you got. The spiral was broken up into two main towns. The kingdom of Atlas, which was the middle of the spiral till the midpoint. Then from there, it was Mantle. A very much unwealthy town that surrounded Atlas.
His walk was made shorter by the compassion of cart owners, who let him ride in the back as they travelled with deliveries to higher Atlas. From there, it was a short trip to the vicinity of the Schnee Palace. Which Oscar could already see, was surrounded by numerous people, waiting to attend the ball. The higher class had already been let in earlier, which only left the lower class to wait.
Standing amongst the crowd of strangers, he waited with baited breath. A cacophony of voices could be heard around him, each conversation making his heart pound harder. So many strangers were unnerving, but it would all be worth it when he got to enter the ballroom. He was most excited to try the desserts that would be supplied, they were a delicacy only for the wealthy. A high class taste that he could only try once. A smile grew on his face as he tried to visualize the sweets, and he imagined what they would smell like, a strong scent of berries and sugar filling his nose, only to be washed out by the overwhelming smells of sweat and dirt surrounding him. He shook his head, clearing it of the daydream, he’d want to be focused here today. If the ball went well, there might just be a chance for Oscar to return. He stood quietly, reveling in the idea of coming back to the world of wine and gold. A loud gasp near him brought his attention back, the crowd began to murmur, a buzz of excitement filling his ears. Due to his unfortunate height, he couldn’t see exactly what had everyone so restless, but once the crowd started pushing forward, he had no choice but to follow.
Eyes looking up as he passed under the doorway to the castle, he could hardly hide his anticipation. Oscar had been fantasizing of what the inside of the castle might look like for years, and here he was. Inside a room that looked as though it had come straight from his dreams. He spun, taking in all he could see. The castle had marble white walls, appearing so shiny he could almost see his reflection. The floors were a jade black and pearl white, in a checkerlike formation. The long rugs, a deep blue, and every painting, candle holder and doorknob were pure silver, shining out as the calm lights of the castle reflected off them. The sound of a piano echoed throughout the room, each note dancing along the walls and waltzing by Oscars ears. For a moment, he forgot about everyone else in the room. For a moment, he let himself take in the magic and wonder of this castle. No one else mattered, it was just him and the lovely music that serenaded him. Oscar let the music carry him, floating along the halls as it got ever nearer. He knew what he must look like to the people behind him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care with that music pulling him along. He came upon a large doorway, the doors already wide open, the music source was in here. He took a breath, and stepped inside.
What he was met with was even more beautiful than the interior of the castles lobby room. It was the ballroom. The deep blue was now a light, soft shade, paired with a snow white. The room was gorgeous. He felt his heart tighten, this room was more than anything Oscar could ever imagine. He felt as though he had left the mortal realm, and was now in the land of death, a beautiful thing that was not held back by any restraints by humans. He felt free. His eyes grazed over the floor, watching as couples waltzed around, clothes richer than anything he would ever wear in his lifetime. The music embraced him now, filling his head with the sweetly tragic melody. He stood atop the stairs, peering towards the opposite side of the room, where there sat five thrones, only two were filled. The sight of instruments pulled his attention from the thrones, to where a group of people sat and played. Each note sending shivers down his skin. His eyes watched them all, slowly settling on the grand piano that now played alone, the pianist, a boy with hair as white as frost and skin like porcelain, sat and played the melody. Oscar found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Watching with silent breath as the guests waltzed circles around the room. Watching until it was only Oscar who stood atop those stairs, all alone. The music had lured him into a melodic trance, one he couldn’t escape. The music neared its end and the pianist took in the gentle applause by the guests, and he turned from his seat, now facing the stairs that Oscar still stood atop. His piercing cold blue eyes broke the trance, but the world stopped completely as Oscar now felt this paralyzing feeling. This pianist, this boy who stared straight into Oscars eyes, who held such an ethereal presence to him, held him in his gaze. The moment felt like decades, but he knew it couldn't have gone on longer than a few seconds. Just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The boy flicking his eyes elsewhere in the room, the moment shattered, much like a broken mirror. He watched the boy stand, he walked with a sophisticated rhythm, and he took a seat on the middle throne. The silver crown he had always been wearing, now in Oscars attention. It was the prince.
He stood for a moment. Silent shock wearing off now that the music had subsided. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, not even realizing he had forgotten to intake any air, one simple thought ran through his head.
Oh my god that was the prince.
His silent panic went unseen by guests passing by on the stairs, despite the large space of the room, he was feeling quite confined. Taking small steps backwards, he broke out into a sprint, back into the halls of the castle. Surely no one would mind him taking a walk around, he just needed a moment to breath and then he would return. Seeing the elusive prince, a boy who was barely seen by anyone besides the wealthy as he was constantly locked away and monitored. A solution that was created by his father, the King, as a way to keep him from leaving his title just like his elder sisters. Of course, those had only been the rumors Oscar heard about, in reality he didn’t know anything about the prince. But making what felt like direct eye contact with him had surprised him greater than anything.
Oscar took note of his surroundings, unfortunate for him, he had been lost in his head, not watching which path he took. Now he stood in an endless hallway of windows and portraits. Oscar was lost inside the castle, and he hadn’t even tried any of the sweets. This was not what he had hoped would happen. Slow steps, as to remain quiet and unnoticed if there was a chance a servant or guard passed by, he eyed the paintings. Each one of the royal family. Most notably the prince and two girls. Oscar guessed they were the princesses, the girls who abandoned their place on the throne in order to fight. Each royal bore the same milk white hair and pale complexion, and ice blue eyes. But it was the prince who’s eyes captivated Oscar the most. Piercing cold even in a painting. If he ever met the artist behind the portraits, he’d have to acknowledge their obvious skill.
Continuing on, he passed a doorway, almost paying it no mind until he saw the bushes peeking out. A door that led outside! His luck was starting to change. He peeked his head out first, surveying the area to see if anyone was there, he wouldn’t want to get in trouble for exiting out the wrong door, or be accused of thievery. When he saw no one, he continued forward, taking note of the babble of running water and sweet scent in the air.
His feet stopped once he reached the middle of the garden he now stood in. His shoulders dropped, this was not outside, or at least not a safe exit. Taking notice of how each bush contained numerous amounts of flowers and plants, each different types. Some he could recognize and some he had never even heard of before. His breath was lost when he realized just where he had ended up. It was Queen Willows garden. A sacred garden she had built for herself that was restricted entrance from anyone other than her. She had thousands of plants in her garden, even some of the rarest in the world, so rare there would be robbery attempts. Each thief ending up either locked away or dead. The Queen was serious about keeping her garden private, rumours spoke of how she denied even the King entrance.
Ok Oscar, just leave out the way you came, no one will ever know you were in here.
A flower caught his eye. A lavender shade with large petals, with white edges painted on it’s skin. He recognized it as an unnamed flower he had seen in one of his books. He had been entranced by its appearance on paper, but seeing it in a book wasn’t even close to seeing it in person. He reached out to touch it, his mind already forgotten about his task of escape. His hand grazed a petal when a voice spoke out.
“Mother doesn’t like it when strangers touch her plants.”
Oscar jumped back, recoiling his hands and looked to stare at the one responsible for the voice. If he thought his heart was beating fast before, then it had completely stopped now. Staring down at him from a balcony that looked over the garden, was the prince. He was slumped against the railing, left hand resting just under his chin. Piercing blue eyes staring right at him, a coy smile played on his lips.
Letting out a laugh the prince spoke again.
“It’s alright, I won’t tell her. Honestly, I’m surprised someone like you even had the guts to try it. Not even I’m allowed to touch the ground of her garden. Instead I have to watch from this balcony. Pathetic isn’t it?” His voice was soft as he spoke, graceful in his words.
When Oscar still hadn’t said anything, he frowned.
“You’re shaking… aw did I scare you? You could apologize at the very least, you’re forbidden entrance there, and I said I wouldn't tell. So a ‘Thank you’ would suffice as well.”
Finally Oscar moved, he took in two deep breaths before speaking. Thinking of what words to say, as to not insult the prince in any way. Or, at least in any way more than he already had.
“Thank you… Ah! I mean sorry. No wait-” He straightened out his posture as best he could and awkwardly bent down in a bow. “I meant, I apologize for causing a disturbance. I got lost in the castle you see, and I had hoped this was the exit. I was mistaken.” He quieted, keeping his eyes to the ground, trying to remember if direct eye contact was rude or proper.
A lullaby of soft laughter broke his thoughts, raising his head to see the prince covering his mouth as he laughed.
“You don’t need to be so formal. It doesn’t sound good on you..”
Oscar couldn’t stop the glare he gave until the prince laughed again.
“My, you’re certainly the breath of fresh air I needed, I got tired of everyone being so proper and fake inside, and came out here to enjoy the evening air, but your company is greatly appreciated. You’re very… genuine.” Oscar felt heat rise to his cheeks, the prince was complimenting him, the prince was talking to him! “I take it you’re not actually a thief who’s come to steal my mothers flowers, if you were, you wouldn’t be as pathetic when getting caught.” Oscar scowled again. That was most definitely not a compliment.
“Hey! I- I’m not pathetic…” Oscar countered, feeling quite embarrassed when the prince smiled down at him again.
“I didn’t say you were, I said you were pathetic when you got caught. But you yourself, are not pathetic. In fact, I’m glad I don’t have to call the guards for once. It’s a nice change of pace to just get to talk to someone.” The prince rested his cheek against his left hand once more, smiling down at Oscar.
“I mean, isn’t there like, how many guests inside you could talk with?” Oscar questioned, grimacing the slightest bit when the prince rolled his eyes at his statement.
“I meant, someone who isn’t fake, or just trying to impress me because I’m a prince. I barely get to see anyone who isn’t like that. It’s not like I can leave the castle…” He whispered the last part, Oscar barely catching it, but giving him a pitiful frown when what he said registered.
He was about to speak again when he realized something. He didn’t know the prince's name. Quiet embarrassment flooded through him, in all honesty, he only knew of the Queen's name, as rumours of her garden were all he really paid any attention to.
“Ah… uhm.. What’s your name?” Oscar asked, putting his hand behind his head to scratch at an itch that wasn’t real in hopes it would make the question less awkward to ask. It did not help.
The prince scoffed, “Are you being serious? You don’t know my name? That’s new. I’m used to being the one who never knows anyone's name, but always have to smile at these complete strangers who act like they've known me since birth. Hm, how about this, you tell me your name first, then I’ll tell you mine.” The prince was leaning closer over the railing, Oscar hoped he wouldn’t fall.
“Right, ah, I’m Oscar. Oscar Pine..” The prince let out another laugh. Oscar just stared with a tired glare. If he was going to laugh and mock everything Oscar said, then he didn’t want to keep the conversation going. He was almost tempted to laugh back at the stuck up prince. He hoped he fell off that balcony, then he’d have a valid reason to laugh.
“Oscar Pine? Like a pine tree? Let me guess, you’re a peasant farmer who has an interest in plants. Quite an ironic name, don’t you think?” The prince chuckled. Oscar hadn’t even thought of the irony of his name.
“Yea yea, funny. What’s your name then?”
“It’s Whitley.”
“Like.. white?”
“It means ‘white meadow’ actually.”
“Oh well isn’t that ironic! White meadow. Have you seen your hair? Quite a fitting name if you ask me.” Oscar walked around the garden, hands thrown in the air as he resounded his words.
Whitley bit back a grin, “Yes, I’m quite aware of the irony of my own name. I guess we both have some very ironic names, hm?” Oscar stopped, making eye contact with Whitley as he did.
“Are you going to get out of there soon?” Oscar tilted his head and looked at Whitley with a confused face. “The garden, I mean. You’re still not supposed to be in there. You could come up here with me though, there’s more than enough room for the two of us.”
About to respond, Oscar opened his mouth, but the flower he saw earlier caught his attention once more. He didn’t want to leave yet. Not until he got to look at the flower just for a moment longer. Looking up at Whitley, who still remained leant against the banister. He had mentioned how even he wasn’t allowed in his mothers garden. Then Oscar had an idea, a stupid, idiotic idea. But at that moment, looking up at the blue eyed boy, he couldn’t find it in him to care.
“What if… you came down here?..” He asked, uncertainty clear in his voice. The question shocked Whitley, for once his expression turning from a smile to open mouth surprise.
“I- I’m not allowed down there.”
“I mean.. I’m in here aren’t I?”
“Well yes, but you’re not supposed to be!”
“Well you haven’t stopped me, and no one else has come by so… why not break just one rule?”
“That’s a horrible and foolish idea, you know that right?”
“Yep.”
Oscar outstretched his hand, raising it up to Whitley, who stared at him with a conflicted expression. After a few moments passed, Oscar sighed and started to lower his arm, but the split moment of panic he saw Whitley express made him keep it raised.
“Well?”
“Alright, alright. I’ll come down. Just give me a moment.” He turned towards the balcony doors.
“Why not just jump?”
“Are you insane?!” He gripped the banister tightly as he stared down at Oscar with a pure dumbfounded glare.
“It’s not that far down. I’ll even catch you, if you’re scared, that is.”
“Ha! Scared? Of course not. It’s just unpleasant for someone of such high class, such as myself. To use such a fowl way of travel when we have perfectly fine stairs to use.”
“But it’s faster, and way more fun.”
“I see nothing fun about jumping off a balcony, besides, what if I fell into a flower bush? Or scuffed the grass? Mother wouldn’t be too pleasant about that.”
“I said I’d catch you.”
“Like I trust that. I’m taking the stairs, wait there.”
He turned in a huff and headed to the doors, pushing them open with an overly dramatic display. Then he was gone, and Oscar was left in the garden by himself. He let out another sigh, he had never dealt with someone so difficult before, and he lived with his aunt. Twirling around the slightest bit, he looked around at the large number of plants he was surrounded by. They truly were gorgeous. Strolling back towards the flowers he had been so intrigued with earlier, he reached out to touch it. The petals were soft to the touch, he almost expected the white edges to paint onto his skin.
“Those are orchids.” The soft voice spoke.
Oscar spun around, standing in front of him was the prince himself. Whitley was taller than he thought he would be, standing almost two inches taller than himself. Oscar cursed his genetics. From this distance, he could see every detail on Whitleys pale skin, and he now saw that those piercing blue eyes had grown softer than they were before.
“Orchids.. I’ve read about them before.” Oscar murmured.
“Oh have you? Well farm boy, care to tell me about them? I don’t know much about flowers myself, besides their general appearance and name.” Whitley stepped beside Oscar, leaning down to admire the orchids. A sickly sweet aroma wafted around in the air, and Oscar couldn’t tell if it came from the flowers or the prince.
Trying to tear his attention away from the intimidating presence of the boy beside him, he thought of the facts from his books. “Orchids represent luxury and beauty.” Oscar remarked, watching as Whitley bit back another smile.
“Much like myself?” He purred, pushing himself just the slightest bit closer to Oscar.
It was Oscar's turn to hold back a laugh, “Actually, I’d say you’re more like a narcissus flower.”
Whitley turned his face up in slight disgust, “You mean those yellow ones over there?” He pointed over to a bush that did indeed house multiple narcissus flowers.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“They symbolize narcissism.”
Oscar let out a choked laugh as Whitley lightly slapped his shoulder, and turned his back with arms crossed.
“If you want to meet a narcissist, you should meet my father, or perhaps my sister, Weiss! I’d say I’m very low maintenance as compared to them.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Whitley let out a huff and walked away, going to stand next to a bush of purple and white flowers. Oscar admired some of the other bushes before finally giving in and standing beside Whitley.
“What do these ones mean?” The prince spoke out, looking at them with a fondness.
“The columbines?” Whitley nodded, “They represent abandonment actually…”
“Oh..” Whitleys shoulders dropped, and his face fell the slightest bit. “I always admired these flowers from the balcony, what a shame they represent something so awful. Yet it’s so painfully ironic…”
Oscar turned to face Whitley with a questioning look, but the prince had already strolled off to the next bush, clearly avoiding the topic.
“How about these Love-Lies-Bleeding?”
“Those ones symbolize hopelessness.”
“Of course my mother would pick the ones with the depressing symbolisms.”
“At least they look pretty?” Oscar offered, in hopes it would lighten the souring mood of the prince.
“Of course they do, as if mother would allow anything ugly inside her garden. This entire garden is a representation of herself and those around her, it’s her own personal hell, filled with beauty and charm with the only thing missing being happiness itself. She’s a tragic thing, isn’t she?” Whitley snapped, holding a group of pink carnations in his icy stare.
Oscar began to feel uncomfortable, he hadn’t thought the garden would bring out so many feelings, he just wanted to make Whitley laugh again. Looking out at the night sky, just past the bushes littered with colour, he saw the lights of the town, and dancing figures. Whitley had spoken about how he hated how fake everyone was inside, and even the garden was bringing him displeasure. Oscar eyed the town once more. A plan began to arise in his mind.
“Would.. Would you like to go to town?” He sputtered out.
Whitley immediately spun on his heel and stared. Eyes resembling an owl's own, he inched closer. “What did you just say?” He whispered.
“I asked if you wanted to go to town, I- you said you hated how fake everyone was right? Well, I bet you’d like town then! There's lots of genuine people down there!” Oscar tried to smile, a small hope inside himself that Whitley would agree.
The hope faltered when Whitley scoffed. “As if I’d want to rendezvous with peasants.” He crossed his arms again, turning to look out at the town with a face of pained longing.
“I mean, you already are, aren’t you? You’ve spent so much time with me. So what's it if you go to town just for a bit?”
Whitley sighed out. “I.. I would love to go to town. Unfortunately, that’s not something I have the freedom to do.”
“Aren’t you a prince? Technically you can do almost anything you want!”
“Oh yes, the wonderful life of a prince. High expectations and absolutely no freedom for myself.”
“No freedom? But I thought- So the rumours were true…”
“What rumours?”
“People say that your father doesn’t allow you to leave the castle, because he’s worried about your safety.”
“Well, they have the correct idea. He doesn’t keep me locked away because he’s worried for my safety though. He’s worried for the throne, and his kingdom. He doesn’t let me leave because of my sisters. They both left, they both abandoned the throne! They abandoned their titles and our family and… and me. So I understand why my father keeps me locked away, he doesn’t want me to get that same dense idea in my mind. I’m not like my sisters though. I’m going to ascend the throne, I’m going to make my father proud.”
Oscar was stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected this boy who had once been only a name he would hear in conversations, to be such a complex soul. Before today, Oscar's only goal in life was to be more than just a simple farmer. He had dreamt of becoming a travelling merchant and seeing what the world had to offer. But as he stood here, in front of this boy with snowy hair and a laugh similar to a song, he found a new goal. To help this boy live. Even if it was just for one night, and he would never see him again, he wanted him to at least experience a night of genuine fun.
“It’ll just be for one night. No one will know, just like with the garden.” Oscar offered, carefully resting his hand on Whitleys shoulder, who stiffened at the sudden contact.
He moved away from the contact, Oscars hand falling to his side. “Someone always knows. My entire life I’ve been watched! Are you trying to tell me that now I won’t get caught? Why? Because now I’m with you? Oh spare me your tasteless humour.”
“No ones watching now.” Oscar took Whitleys fragile hands into his own gloved ones, wishing at that moment that he had taken them off, as he couldn’t help but wonder if his skin felt as cold as it looked. “Besides, the guards would be busy with the ball wouldn’t they? If you wear a cloak, I doubt anyone will recognize you.” Whitley stared into Oscar’s eyes, then down at where their hands met. His expression softened.
“Well, what exactly are you trying to pull here, farm boy? Trying to court yourself a prince?” He smiled as he spoke, lightly letting out a huff of amusement.
Oscar pulled back his hands quickly. The red burning on his face only grew as the prince turned away, and spoke without looking back, “I’ll go find my cloak, and maybe a set of keys to the garden stairs. Don’t get caught, I’ll return soon!”
Oscar was left alone in the garden once more. He wondered if this would become a regular occurrence, but the remembrance of just who he was waiting for and who’s garden he stood in, shut the idea down quickly. This was for one night, and one night only. Oscar wasn’t royalty, and he doubted he’d be allowed permission to see Whitley again, even if the prince begged for it as well.
Oscar paced around the garden, eyes searching along the edges of the half wall that kept the garden contained, for anything that resembled a staircase. He doubted Whitley would actually be able to find a key, so if he found the stairs first, he could find another way to get through the gate. He felt his luck strike once more when he saw the vines hanging from a piece of wall that was taller than the rest, as he came closer, he saw that it was in fact the gate. It was a pearl white gate, but years of what seemed to be no use, had rusted it over in some parts. He pulled on it, and was unsurprised when it refused to open, instead letting out a creak as if in protest. He looked at it’s handle, and grimaced at the sight of the keyhole. They would need the key. Oscar looked over the half wall that was beside the gate, it wasn’t too tall of a wall, they could easily climb over it. But he remembered what Whitleys opinion had been on jumping off of balconies. If he had thought that was unpleasant for royalty, then he wouldn’t like this idea even more. Still, Oscar looked over the edge of the wall, just to see where they would have to climb to reach the stairs. He stilled when he saw nothing but the far off ground. The only way to reach the stairs was to go through the gate. He hoped Whitley found the key.
His wait wasn’t for much longer as a white cloaked figure snuck into the garden. Oscar stared at it dumbfoundedly.
“You know that white isn’t exactly the best colour for sneaking out, right?” Oscar called out. Whitley stopped his sneaking stance and stood sharply.
“I rebuke that statement. I’d say white is a perfect colour! Black draws too much attention, after all only shifty figures who are trying to hide wear black. Besides! Don’t you think white suits me?” He raised his hands under his chin and struck a pose. Oscar let out a light laugh before noticing the silver crown that Whitley wore just under the hood.
“You’re not seriously going to wear the crown are you?”
“Of course I am! If things go wrong I’ll need some way to prove I am who I say I am, and that way you won’t end up in trouble!”
“Wouldn’t they recognize you by your face? And you could just use your magic if you really needed to prove that you’re royalty.”
Whitley made a face. “Not every guard knows what I look like, besides, why waste magic when I have a perfectly fine crown. Now let’s go!” Whitley pulled out a silver key, the top resembled a snowflake.
He unlocked the gate, pulling it open. The hinges screamed out. He turned to look back at Oscar, a grin on his face. Oscar watched as his white cloak flew down the stairs right behind him. Taking one last look at the garden, Oscar followed.
When the boys arrived in town, the warm light of lit fireplaces and smell of baked goods held Oscar in a familiar embrace. As beautiful as the high class life was, he couldn’t express just how much he loved the charm of the lower class. It felt like home, a place where he could be himself. Taking a breath of the smell of burning embers, he turned to Whitley, who stood frozen in place. His appearance was out of place, his cold colours contrasting greatly with the warmth of the town. Moving to stand beside him, he leaned in.
“So, what do you wanna do first?” Oscar said. Whitley looked at him with a confused stare.
“What even is there to do here? I don’t see an adequate space to dance..” A young faunus girl ran in front of the two of them, Whitley taking an exaggerated step back as she passed.
“Are you serious? There’s lots to do! We don’t really have a space to dance, we just pick a spot and everyone joins in! There’s also the vendors! They’re usually selling good stuff! Oh! And there’s crafts as well! Kids get bored easily, so a lot of time the adults prepare lots of games and crafts for them to play with. Once, a baker opened up his shop and let the kids try their hand at making bread! My bread wasn’t amazing, but I still had fun making it.” Whitley stared at him, intrigue growing in his eyes.
“Crafts for the children? My family's balls are never like that.” Whitley huffed out, readjusting his hood when a guard passed by. “As a child, we would spend months learning how to properly greet other nobles, and learn the waltz. On the day of the ball, we would waltz with the other children and wait beside our parents until the event was over…” He watched a group of children with flower crowns adorned on their heads run past to another vendor.
“That sounds… painfully boring.” Oscar quipped. Whitley didn’t hide his agreeing nod.
A loud cheering began, both boys watching intently as music started up and the crowd of people before them, began spinning with one another. Smiles and laughs painted on their faces. Whitley watched with an unfamiliar gaze, trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of him.
“What dance are they doing?” He puzzled, Oscar letting out a laugh as he spoke.
“They’re not really doing any type of dance, they’re just dancing!” The spinning circle broke up, everyone grabbing a partner and spinning around once more. Each time, they switched their partners.
“It’s almost like a waltz but… more..” Whitley paused, scratching his brain to come up with a word that captured what he felt.
“But more fun? More free?” Oscar inquired.
A look of objection flashed across his face before he paused, taking in a thought and finally speaking. “I was going to say uncouth, but I.. suppose that’s one way to put it..” He mumbled. Crossing his arms again, he turned away to observe the vendors. Oscar looked back at the group of dancers, and back at Whitley. He wasn’t one for public dancing, but if it made Whitley happy, he was willing to do it. Sucking in a breath, he held out his hand, getting the prince’s attention.
“Would you like to dance?” Oscar inquired, noting the way Whitleys eyes grew just the slightest bit wide at one of the vendors. He then snapped his attention to Oscar, and stared at him with one eyebrow raised.
“No thank you. I’m not particularly fond of dances of nonsense.” He turned his attention back to the vendor, raising himself onto his tip toes.
Oscar let out an offended scoff. “Well you didn’t have to say it like-”
“Are those CREPES?” Whitley burst out. The sudden change in his behaviour made Oscar jump.
Whitley, who had been so formal and proper before, had now turned around, glee was framed on his face and he clasped tightly onto Oscar’s own gloved hands. When Oscar still remained silent, in his shock of the prince's sudden change, Whitley moved his hands to cover his freckled cheeks, which now had a fine layer of red blush from the action.
“Oscar! We have to get some! I haven’t had crepes in forever please!” The prince pleaded, uncaring if he made a scene. Oscar let out a slow nod, and Whitley pranced away to the vendor that had the crepes. He remained standing there, stunned. Whitleys hands were even colder than he thought. The icey feeling nipped at his burning cheeks, Oscar let the feeling simmer until the cold finally melted away. He then followed after Whitley, who stood at the vendor with eyes full of excitement.
“Two crepes please!” The baker got to immediate work, and Whitley watched with keen interest. “Have you ever tried crepes before Oscar?” He asked, eyes not moving off the baker.
“Ah.. not that I can remember. Honestly, the ingredients were always pretty expensive.” Whitley gaped at Oscar. An expression of fake offense soon followed.
“Oh they’re fantastic! My family’s caretaker, Klein, used to make the best crepes! No one could beat them.” He smiled, seeming to recall the memory.’
“You said you haven’t had them in forever, what happened?” Oscar recounted. When Whitleys face fell, Oscar immediately regretted asking the question. “Sorry! Ah- you don’t have to tell me!”
“No, it’s alright. The last time I had crepes was just after Klein had been fired, which was a few years ago now. The cooks tried their best, but it just didn’t taste the same.”
“Why was he fired?”
“Oh now that’s a fun story,” Whitley drew out, sarcasm thick in his words. “He was fired for helping my elder sister, Weiss escape from the castle. You see, after Winter revoked her claim on the crown, and went to become one of the Captains pawns, my father got paranoid. Weiss had always looked up to Winter, and when father saw that she wanted to follow in her footsteps of exploring the world and defending the people, he got strict. He told Weiss she couldn’t be a knight and a queen. That she had to pick a responsibility and stick to it, and her responsibility was as a princess. Weiss didn’t like that, and so she had Klein help her escape one night, and I haven’t seen her since. Father was furious. Klein was removed from the castles staff and I was put under heavier restrictions.” He lamented.
Oscar gave him another pitying look. Whitley still found ways to surprise him. With each truth that was revealed to Oscar, he craved the prince’s happiness even more. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a stand belonging to a travelling artist, and an idea was in his mind.
The baker finished with the two crepes, handing the finished foods to the boys on a small tray. “Four lien please.” He whispered out, his voice gravely and old.
Oscar stared at the baker in surprise. He was about to voice his surprise but Whitley found his own voice first. “FOUR LIEN?”
The baker gave him a sorry expression. “I know it’s quite expensive, but I needed to raise the price you see, the bakery hasn’t been doing too well lately and-”
“You think that’s expensive?!” Whitley puzzled
“Whitley-” Oscar scolded before he was cut off again.
“Four lien is nothing! For these crepes, it should be twenty lien at the least!”
“T-twenty? No no! I appreciate the compliment but that’s much too expensive!” The baker choked out.
Whitley only stared. Dead serious as he reached into a hidden pocket in his cloak, and he pulled out twenty lien. Placing it down on the counter, never breaking eye contact. He smiled at the baker's look of absolute awe. “Farewell! Thank you very much!” He smirked. Strolling away from the stand, leaving Oscar to only stare at the money that was left. Noticing he was lingering just a moment too long, he chased after Whitley, throwing a quick “Thank you!” over his shoulder.
Finally reaching the white cloaked boy, he gasped out a breath. Whitley looked down at his bent figure, a wide smile clear on his face and his crepe nowhere to be found.
“Where’d- where’d your crepe go? Please don’t say you threw it away or something because it didn’t taste right. You spent twenty lien on that!” Oscar exasperated.
“Of course I didn’t! I’m just a particular fast eater when it comes to crepes. I can’t believe you would even claim such a thing from me, and twenty lien is nothing, the food from my cooks cost more than two hundred lien.” Whitley remarked, Oscar was about to respond, when he spotted a small remainder of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth. Letting out a chuckle when Whitley looked at him with just the slightest bit confused. He pointed to the same spot on his own face. Hoping it would get the point across. The realization of what he meant hit Whitley immediately and he spun around, when he spun back the mark was gone and Whitleys face was now a burning red. Oscar burst out laughing.
“Aren’t you supposed to be all ‘neat and proper’?”
“Ha ha ha. Very funny.” Whitley deadpanned.
His burning red face refused to calm down and he glared at the ground. “Curse how easily I blush.” He whispered out, causing Oscar to laugh harder, he grabbed onto Whitley’s hand, ceasing his pouting.
“Here I have a way to help.” He pulled the white cloaked boy towards the makeup stand, the artist stood just in front of it, leaning against the wall. A face caked with colourful makeup. As the two approached, the artist raised themselves up, nodding in a silent understanding. They pulled out two chairs and gestured for the boys to sit. Once they did, the artist went to work. Oscar flinched at every new brush and paint that touched his skin, the soft fuzzy feeling sent shivers down his arms, but they hadn’t compared to the shivers that Whitley gave him just by looking into his eyes. He scrunched his eyes shut hoping no makeup found it’s way into his eyes. The texture of the makeup felt heavy and stiff on his face, he cringed just the slightest bit and turned to look at Whitley. His head was raised ever so slightly and his eyes were gently shut. Mouth ajar the smallest amount. Oscar couldn’t help but think that he looked peaceful like that, almost as if he was used to it.
The artist finally finished on Whitley, he opened his eyes of ice and turned to look at Oscar. Oscar was at a loss of words. His eyes had a fine amount of black eyeliner around them, his lips a soft pink shade and a pink spot on the tip of his nose. His blue eyes fit with the colours of the makeup quite well. Oscar’s eyes trailed down the black lines on his cheeks that were supposed to appear as whiskers. He was a cat. Oscar smiled, the animal strangely fit the personality of the prince before him. Pampered and dramatic. The artist stuck a mirror in front of them both, interrupting Oscar’s appreciating gaze that had gone on for just a bit too long. He turned to look at himself, while Whitley did the same.
His freckles were now covered by multiple white dots across his face. A black spot on the tip of his own nose, and eyeliner that surrounded his eyes. Around his eyes and nose, was also soft white makeup that faded off into his actual skin. His top lip was black with a line that connected to his nose. A deer. Oscar couldn’t find the resemblance for himself. He wasn’t anything like a deer. But he had to admire the artist's work, they truly had a talent.
Whitley reached into his hidden pocket. “This is such lovely work! How much for it?”
The artist shook their head furiously, putting up their hands as if to exaggerate the expression. Whitley glared at them. They glared back. Oscar stared between the two, then the stand, spotting a sign that read “NO PAYMENTS REQUIRED!”. He smiled awkwardly as he pushed Whitley back, trying to break their staring contest. Whitley had obviously never met so many people who didn’t want large amounts of his money before.
Whitley let out a loud dramatic groan. “I don’t understand! If they’re providing services to others, they should be expecting money in return for it!”
“Not everyone does it for money though, some people are just really passionate about their skills.”
“Well they should! If you have the skills, you should charge others for your work. Then slowly work yourself up and you’ll have enough money to live a happy life!”
“Money doesn’t make everyone happy..”
“Well I’m sure it helps.”
They strolled along the streets, walking next to each other in a comfortable silence, Whitley admiring the strange and peculiar parts of the festival. They stood near a group of several large roaring fires, Whitley hiding just a bit behind Oscar, obviously not comfortable being near such an open flame. But his fearful expression soon turned to delight when the flames each turned a new colour when a powder was thrown into them. The flames of a purple fire lit up his face, painting it purple. Oscar found himself more interested in how the purple danced along his pale painted face rather than the other fires. They soon moved on, Oscar about to say something when a loud shout sounded in the crowd.
“STOP! THIEVES!”
They turned to look at the scene that was occurring, a newfound confusion when Oscar saw that the shopkeeper who had shouted, was pointing right at them.
“Oscar?” Whitley whispered, moving in closer, hands hugging his shoulders.
The shout had alerted the attention of multiple guards. Each one inching closer as the seconds ticked by. One guard in particular stood right ahead of them. Pink eyes pulled into a furious glare as she stared down the two boys.
“I wouldn’t even bother putting up a fight,” She started. Stepping closer as she spoke out. “Just give back whatever it is you took, and we can have a nice chat about it.” Her face remained stone cold and serious as she spoke. Clearly she took her job of harassing the poor and innocent without any evidence, very seriously.
“Oscar?” Whitley tried again, pulling him with him as he backed up. “We didn’t actually steal anything right?”
“Nope, we’re innocent.”
“Ok.. so what do you suppose we do then?”
“Well, I don’t think you’d want to expose your identity just yet, so let’s just run.”
“What!?”
“We’re gonna run.”
“We are not going to run anywhere!”
“No we are.”
With the remaining guards starting to surround the boys, the girl stalked forward. Hands balled into fists and swinging by her sides.
“To the right, down the alleyway. We’ll go when I say.”
“We are not-!”
“Let’s go!”
Finding Whitleys hand, he gripped it tight and took off. His feet kicking up dirt behind him as they slammed into the ground. They tore into the alleyway. Oscar threw down a stack of crates as they passed. A sharp turn to the left caused them to skid dangerously close into a wall. He chanced a look behind him, only to see the same girl tearing right through the fallen crates, her brows furrowed as she neared. Throwing his head back forwards, they took another turn, exiting out of the narrow space and now entering a crowded one. Shocked shrieks broke out as the two boys jolted through the various strangers. The four guards close on their pursuit. Weaving themselves by each body, Oscar spotted a table just ahead. With a determined look, he pushed them forwards and dropped his body to the ground. The weight of himself paired with his iron grip on Whitleys own hand, was enough to pull him down with him. They slid under the table. Dirt and rocks tearing at their pants. Rising back up just as quick, Oscar staggered before pulling Whitley along again. Their shoes stomped against the ground, the sound outheard by a loud creak of wood snapping. That was all Oscar needed to hear to know their pursuers weren’t far behind.
They darted forward, passing by multiple vendors. Whitleys white cape flying out behind him as he ran. He had one hand on his head, keeping his crown and hood in place. Oscar turned to look back once more, twisting his head just in time to see the pink eyed girl burst forward. Her hand was thrown forward, reaching for the end of the white cape. She snatched at it, pulling it towards her. The action pulling Whitley backwards and choking his throat. Oscar glowered. His hand shot out, reaching out to grab a hold of the white cape as well. He wrenched it away, freeing Whitley. He swiped his hand once more and galloped forward.
Oscar squinted. In the closening distance, was a bridge. He sprinted forward, and swiveled Whitley around. The prince shot forward quicker than his legs could keep up with. The action propelling Oscar forward and they ran, faster than feet were used to. Upon reaching the bridge, they lurched forward and teetered. Trying to stop themselves from completely toppling over. Whitley steadied himself on the bridge barrier. Taking a moment to steady themselves, Oscar began speaking.
“Ok. I have a plan, you might hate it though.”
“Anything is better than getting caught!”
He took a deep breath, and stepped onto the barrier, Whitley following his action.
“We’re gonna jump. And you’re going to use your magic to stop us from hitting the ground, ok?”
“WHAT?!”
“Perfect. Now jump!”
“OSCAR WAIT-!”
Oscar jolted off the bridge, Whitley getting pulled with him as their hands still remained connected. Then they were falling.
The white cape whipped around in the air as they propelled downwards. Tears filling both boys' eyes.
“OSCAR!” Whitley screamed out. His voice barely cutting through the swirling winds and loud beating of Oscar's heart.
“USE YOUR MAGIC. NOW!” He shouted back, eyes screwed shut.
“I CAN’T!”
“WHAT?”
“I CAN’T USE MAGIC!”
His eyes flung open wide. The two boys held each other's gaze as they fell. Tears falling upwards from Whitley’s eyes. They were going to fall. They were going to fall, and Whitley couldn’t save them. This was all Oscar’s fault. He has caused all this, and now, a day that had started with so much joy and excitement, was going to end in such a horrifying way. All because Oscar had wanted to make a prince smile. They felt themselves near the ground, it would only be a few more seconds before they hit. He closed his eyes. But the feeling of Whitley’s own hand tightening around his sent one final shiver through him. The shiver only grew when it reached his chest, growing and festering. The shiver became an electric shock. The zapping sensation encasing his body until it had nowhere to go. Nowhere but out. Oscar pushed at the feeling, and it shot out. Sparks shot through the air, green and vibrant. They encircled the boys in cage-like figure, and when they met impact with the ground, it exploded.
Oscar sat on the ground. Whitley right beside him. They were fine. They had survived! The rush of what had just occurred swam through Oscar. His first thought being that Whitley had used his magic, until he felt the sizzling sensation drift away from his skin. He turned to look into Whitleys eyes. But he was already wide eyed, staring right back.
“What was that.” He interrogated, rising to his feet but falling back down when they gave out on him.
“I-... I don’t know..” Oscar answered, looking down at his hands.
“You used magic. That was magic!” Whitley proffered, his makeup running down his face. Oscar could only imagine what his own looked like. “Are you royalty? Have you been a royal this entire time and never told me?! Were you lying about everything?” He fired out, anger rising in his voice.
“What?! No! I- I didn’t know I could do any of that. Honest! And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be royalty? How come you didn’t use your magic?!” Oscar retorted.
“I can’t.” Was all Whitley answered with, face devoid of a clear emotion.
“Why not?”
“Because I never bothered learning how! My father didn’t use magic, and yet both my sisters did and my mother too! I felt, if I learnt how to harness and control my magic, he’d hate me for it. I don’t want to be like my sisters! And I never want to be anything like my mother! My magic was just another thing that connected me to them…” A silence fell over the two.
Whitley wiped at his eye, taking black eyeliner with it, he scowled at the black stain now on his hand.
Oscar leaned close, removed his gloves and set them down, then held onto Whitleys hands. His hands were still as frozen as before.
“Whitley… It’s your magic. So what if it’s just like their magic, it’s still yours. Your father can’t hate you for something you were born with. Your magic is you, but it’s not all that you are. You make your magic what you want it to be. You use it how you want, and no one can control that but you.” They stared, tired eyes now that the adrenaline of the moment had long worn off.
“You know, because you can use magic, that makes you royalty. Did you know that?” Whitley said, a small smile on his face.
Oscar shook his head, he couldn’t imagine himself ever being royalty. His aunt didn’t have any powers he knew of either, so how could he have been born with magic?
“Who are your parents?”
“I don’t know, they passed when I was a baby. I live with my aunt instead.”
“So that means one of your parents had magic!”
“No.. I- I don’t think so..”
“Yes! One of your parents had magic! If you’re living on a farm now, that must mean you’re a descendent of a royal family that no longer exists! Oscar this is amazing!”
“DON’T MOVE!” A sudden voice shouted out.
The boys looked to the side, the four guards were sliding down the steep hill just below the bridge. Oscar immediately jerked away, struggling to stand. Whitley placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed.
“I guess this is goodbye.” He lamented.
The four guards stood in front of the boys now, steam pouring from their heads. The pink eyed girl spoke first. “All right kids, the funs over. Give up, you’ve already made this hard enough.”
Whitley stood up, legs wobbling the slightest bit, but he held firm.
“I can’t believe this is what my father puts his money into.” He removed the hood watching in delight at how the girl's eyes widened at the recognition of his face and crown. “Chasing after innocent kids claiming they stole something without even a shred of evidence! Pathetic.”
All four guards bowed before him, each stammering out apologies. “Your highness, we’re sorry.” A male faunus with a tail spoke up.
The pink eyed girl calmed her expression. “Whitley, you’re not supposed to be out of the castle. What are you doing out here? Did he do something to you?!” She pointed to Oscar, who remained seated. Lips in a straight line.
“He didn’t do anything. It was my fault. I got bored of the party and tricked one of the poor farmers to take me around town. He didn’t even know I was royalty!” He fibbed, Oscar had to admit he was impressed by how well Whitley lied.
“You know how your father feels about you leaving the castle.” Another guard added.
“You all know Winter, can you really blame me? Just like her, I hate being trapped inside. I was going to come right back, I just wanted to see something new.” The guards let out huffs and began to move to his side.
“Let’s get you back before your father notices, how about that?” Whitley nodded in agreement.
“Oh! But can I say goodbye to the farmer first? I really did have a good time with him!” The pink eyed girl rolled her eyes, but nodded anyway.
Whitley ran beside Oscar and hugged him tight. “Meet me in three days by the garden gate. I want to see you again.” He whispered into his ear and pulled away, running back to the guards and they walked off, leaving Oscar to sit alone.
That all really just happened.
He thought. Oscar flopped onto the ground, he gazed up at the night stars. The prince's last words rang in his ears. He would see him again in three days.