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The speed and suddenness of which the atmosphere of a place could shift was an unique kind of event. Granvelle Castle’s walls had become just a little grayer, and its court just a little dourer. Cain had visited the Royal Castle so often when he had been Captain that he had committed it to memory; to where each hallway began and ended and crossed like a labyrinth to the smallest decorations and finery hung on its walls.
Ah, the difference was much like night and day. Any maid, servant, cook or stable boy would brighten up and smile in adoration upon seeing Cain pass by. The air was light and full of life and there was a friend in every corner. But this had changed the moment the eyeball in his left socket was dyed red. Even though he could not see their faces, it was easy to envision how people would shift from smiles full of teeth and easy, slanted shoulders to brows pinched together and every muscle in their bodies taut like bowstrings. Well, what could you do? He did not mind it that much, really. Brooding was hardly like himself. All Cain could do was to get stronger to regain the trust he had lost. Had he proven himself more in the time spent there, had he not hid the fact he was a wizard, maybe they would still smile at him in adoration. It was thanks to Cain's determination (and a dash of stubbornness) that he could still walk light on his feet as he greeted each and every person with a smile and waved his hand like normal, like long ago. He just hoped he wasn't actually waving at a wall, though. That would be really lame.
Cain shook his head, then slapped his cheeks. Such gloominess was not why Cain had come to the castle today. It was not all bad. On occasion, Granvelle Castle would burst with color once more, albeit of different shades than those he had known of in the past. When the court opened their arms in welcome to celebrate the deeds of the Sage’s Wizards, everyone’s eyes would brim with goodwill. Nobles from all across Central Country would visit and shower them with gifts of gold and praise them with all the silver in their tongues. The banquets were huge and varied, with exotic fruits and desserts from the North to the South, decorated with the elegance of the East and merriment of the West. Tonight just so happened to be such an occasion.
The number of hands he had shaken during the festivities had long flown over his head already. Guests came out of every place imaginable, as if they were under a spell Cain himself had cast; only because the Sage’s Wizards had defeated yet another magical creature near the Capital’s gates. Although this amount of attention was somewhat embarrassing, his chest was warm with happiness and relief beyond everything. No matter how overwhelming formalities and pleasantries could be, Cain delighted himself in being able to see all the people in the castle. How he had missed the sight of this! Of course, Granvelle Castle’s ceremonies were much fancier and stuffier than the parties he took part in alongside his friends from City of Glory or his former comrades from the Knights. These had been much rowdier and chaotic, an ill fit for royal castles. But a party was a party, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself!
Everyone among the Sage’s Wizards were doing their own little things; like Rustica, who joined the musicians playing a jaunty tune. Or Chloe, who rambled on and on about textiles and needlework with the most important noble to the lowest of peasants. Even the Northern Wizards seemed to be having their own idea of fun, so how could he complain? Bradley devoured the meat dishes like a bear clawing on prey, while Nero and Faust watched him reproachfully, Lennox ever at Faust’s side. Mithra chewed on a porcelain vase that he had mistaken for one of these fancy pies, and Rutile reassured him that the food didn’t taste as bad. From the opposite side of the buffet, Owen smiled near the desserts, stuffing his mouth with every cake and cream available. Passersby looked at Owen in horror as if he would turn around and decide sweets weren't enough, devouring them instead. Cain chuckled, looking at him from afar. Owen’s face, hair and clothes were covered in cream.
When a friend then tugged at Cain's arm, he almost jumped in surprise. And so he was reminded he could scarcely afford to stay still. He caught up with some old friends from the guard, whose eyes watered with emotion as they all but tackled him in their embrace. Exasperated, Cain gently but sternly admonished them, speaking of how they were on duty and should behave as such, but etiquette and proper manners had soon dissolved like ice against the heat of the sun. Cain ruffled their hair affectionately and gave them a big pat on their backs, strong enough it seemed like the poor guards would hurl up their supper on the white porcelain floor of the main hall as they staggered back and forth.
Soon enough Cain’s voice was booming through the ball, and the rest was history. They told him stories of the knights headquarters, raids and recon missions, while he shared some of his own stories about the Magic Manor. All in a very loud and rambunctious manner. They feasted and drank to their heart’s content, old friends bringing Cain many new ones through shared bottles of ale.
If he had let himself be carried away by the spring in his steps as he danced with his comrades, His Highness Arthur did not express any sign of reproach, as he joined the dancing and out of tune singing with a wide smile plastered across his face. Next to them Drummond looked at the rowdiness disapprovingly, but the enthusiasm around the castle and the shared warmth coming off their bodies reassured Cain that they could not possibly have been doing the wrong thing.
Oops. This is looking more like a fair from my hometown than a formal celebration. Cain laughed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. He had only been struck by how much time had passed due to the red faces of many of the guests, huffing and sweating in between their smiles.
The clatter of shoes and the heat of bodies jammed together in dance and song had gradually dwindled as people left the main hall. Many of the tired guests were now resting on the velvet chairs that were placed neatly near tables around the area closer to the banquet. Thanks to Cain’s good form, he did not feel all that tired. It felt a little sad. The musicians glanced knowingly in between themselves and, as if reaching an unanimous decision, nodded while they adjusted their positions and sped down the rhythm of the music until it had become another song entirely. In contrast to the brisk pacing and jaunty melody, the music that filled the castle was almost a lullaby. It tickled Cain’s ears like a feather and made him want to slowly sway his body in accordance to the rhythm.
Without a doubt, the celebration had reclaimed its identity as a sophisticated ball. Cain smiled as he saw bashful couples rising to their feet, hands intertwined. They giggled shyly as if whispering secrets, and swayed their bodies in sync to the melody, meshed together like they began and ended with one another. He saw Rustica from the corner of his eye, offering his hand in all his gentlemanly charm to a flustered Chloe, who seemed to ask are you really inviting me? Or did you get the wrong person? Shylock and Murr also danced, even if their dance was nothing like other people’s; their movements were chaotic and mismatched, betraying the very rhythm of the song. Cain laughed. The Western Wizards sure are a lively bunch. Cain smiled a little awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Rather than Shylock and Murr or the flustered Chloe, it was Cain who felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the little world these couples had created for themselves.
A bit flustered, Cain rubbed the back of his neck, his head zapping in every direction until it settled on the desserts table, only to find it nearly empty of sweets and with no one to be found next to it. He shook his head, laughing dryly to himself. Of course that wouldn’t happen.
Then, someone spoke from behind and lightly touched his arm, causing Cain’s heart to nearly jump out of his mouth.
“Would you… Would you like to dance?”
A red cheeked girl stood meekly next to him, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet while fiddling with her fingers, looking downwards. Her bangs were long and straight and covered her face like curtains, but Cain could tell she was beautiful.
“Oh, hey,” Cain responded. Her eyes shot up, big and sparkly and hopeful like twinkling stars.
Cain panicked internally, just slightly. What coursed through his head were ways of turning her down without hurting her feelings. She was beautiful and charming and Cain was truly flattered by her earnest affections, but he couldn’t take her hand.
In the end, no matter how much he racked his head for the right words, he knew she deserved honesty to match her bravery; and it would be a disrespect to her feelings to say any less.
So he spoke, smiling encouragingly. “I’m flattered, really. But if a guy with no interest in romance like me were to dance alongside all these happy couples, it would definitely spoil the mood, right?”
The girl took it with the grace of a princess, bowing politely before turning on her heel. Cain let out a sigh.
However, the relief Cain felt was short-lived, for she had hardly been the last.
“If you would give me the grace,”
“May I have the honor to take you for this dance?”
“I’ve always looked up to you, ever since you were Captain, so!”
“If I may be so bold as to ask for a minute of your time, no doubt you are a busy man… but I’ve looked up to you since you were a squire…”
“Could you just hold my hand a little? I’d pass out and go to heaven, you’ll always be my Captain, I swear!”
“Do you come here often?”
Cain was barraged by a storm of questions not even Oz’s magic could stop. Noble men and women, members of the Knights, foreigners… He responded while smiling bashfully every time he was asked, hoping his feelings and theirs could at least meet halfway.
He stretched his arms and yawned after the tenth request of that night. It’s not like I’m running, but maybe getting some air would do me good. Was the reasoning Cain had come up with as he strode through the door that separated the main hall from the balcony.
This place was so huge it was bigger than Cain’s own house back in City of Glory. And arguably cleaner. His parents had never been the type of person to keep everything nice and tidy, maybe it had rubbed off on him.
The balcony sure had a beautiful view though; from so high up above, the Capital was displayed from under him. It looked tiny like each house had been modeled by hand, but vivid like a festival. People’s houses were bustling with light despite the emptiness of the streets, which had tables, banners, food and plants scattered as if announcing it had been lived on, with each of the houses and decorations telling their own story.
The mythical form of the Great Calamity painted the skies and below with its shining bright light. Cain wondered how the view would be from up there on the moon, perhaps wishing to see the vastness of the world through the Great Calamity’s own eyes, perhaps wondering if it didn’t feel lonely; observing everything from up in the sky, but unable to touch any of it without bringing forth destruction.
“Mister Knight.”
A voice called from behind at the same time he felt the light touch of a gloved finger poking his shoulder. When Cain turned, he was faced with a pair of eyes of mismatched color that perfectly mirrored his own, curved just slightly like waning moons.
“Oh hey, Owen. What’s up?” Cain smiled and balled his fist, raising it over his shoulder in an encouraging gesture.
Owen’s face scrunched up like wet paper. “Tch. How come you didn’t scream?” He spat, crossing his arms.
Cain hummed, putting his forefinger over his lips in thought. “Let me see… Back in my hometown, it was common practice between my friends to prank each other. I’ve kinda grown some sort of immunity? Besides, I’m used to your presence by now. It would be hard not to, since you’re the only person I can see and all that.”
“No fair.” Owen wrinkled up his nose in displeasure, tilting his head.
Cain couldn’t help but laugh at his pout. Sometimes, Owen sulked like he was denied the toy he wanted. Cain mused about how many more moments like this he might have missed in the past for not wanting to see. “Sorry, sorry. Want me to scream next time? I can try,”
“No. Ugh. You’re so rude.” He complained, vanishing from where he stood and reappearing on the top of the railing with the help of his magic.
Owen sat down on the narrow space without a care for the height, feet dangling like a child’s whose chair was too tall for them. His silhouette against the pale light of the moon made him look even paler.
Cain propped his body against the railing, placing his hands on top of it. He looked at Owen. “So, why are you here?”
“Is that the best you could come up with?” He deadpanned. “I’m a Sage’s Wizard. I have to.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Cain sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that, you know! You being you, I thought you’d leave after eating the sweets.”
“The twins’ yapping would be too much of a pain to deal with tomorrow. They don’t leave me alone and ignore everything I say. It’s horrible.”
Cain smiled, thinking he could do with giving Snow and White his thanks tomorrow. It was a miracle Owen hadn’t magicked himself away already, might as well try to prolong the moment and come up with something to talk about. “Well, uhh… How are you enjoying the celebrations? They’re for us, after all.”
“I don’t enjoy this kind of human frivolity. It’s so loud it’s a pain. And some humans keep approaching me with their eyes all sparkly, even though I’m a Northern Wizard. It makes me sick.” He poked his tongue out, doing a blergh sound and propping his hand on his chin. Then, as if trying to rein back his displeasure, he added as an afterthought, “The moon shaped food with the color of dried blood covered with spots like pus oozing out of a wound was yummy.”
“You mean chocolate cookies? My old friends from the Order liked them. They should cut back on that stuff, though.”
“Your little knight friends, hm?” He probed like sticking his finger inside an open wound. “You mean the people who turned on you the second your little secret got revealed?”
“Sorry to tell you, but it wasn’t any sort of event. We just talked like any other day.”
Owen looked unconvinced, voice low as a whisper but unwavering in its words. “There’s no need to put on airs, O Mister Knight.” He smiled down sweetly at Cain. “Hey, tell me how it feels, meeting once more with the people who you trusted, who fought with you, ate with you, and who pointed fingers and shunned you at the drop of a hat the moment you had become a hindrance? Tell me all about the despair you felt then, Mister Knight.”
Cain only sighed. “There is always a little bittersweetness seeing people from a life I’ve left behind, but…” he smiled sheepishly, “none of what happened was their fault, and it was wrong of me to keep a secret. There’s no bad blood between us. Before we were human or wizard, we were friends fighting for the same goal.”
The malicious mirth had disappeared from Owen’s expression then, and he frowned, looking cross. “You have a delusional view of people.” Owen rose, standing atop the railing and trying to balance himself on it, walking by putting one foot in front of the other as if he was playing tightrope.
“Why do you think it's delusional?” Cain asked, finger on his chin.
"Why?" Owen was shocked, as if he didn't expect to get a question back. He continued walking away from Cain atop the railing, seemingly having no trouble with balancing. "It just is. People are full of malice, brewing in their hearts slowly, silently, surely… until it pours over and becomes a destructive wave that floods the world." He laughed as he spun around, his white cape swirling and trailing after him before falling into place like curtains after a closing act. He continued walking, this time back towards Cain.
Cain smiled, looking fondly. “But we’re spending time together and talking right now despite everything, aren’t we?”
Owen stopped on his tracks, pursing his lips.
Despite his expression remaining impassive, Cain could notice the slight twitch of his brow. He shifted his gaze away from Cain. “It’s too noisy anywhere else.” He mumbled.
Cain smiled. “Even so, I like to spend time with you, Owen.”
“You’re getting just as noisy. Maybe it’s time for me to gouge out your other eye to silence you. I’ll give it to Cerberus as a treat.” Cain could see the red tint of Owen’s cheeks. It could have been merely an illusion cast by the moonlight, but Cain would rather keep it in his heart as a fact.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I’m already having a hard time getting strong enough to get my other eyeball back from you.” Cain turned to Owen, then grinned. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t, though.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a thousand years too young to assume things about me.”
“Then why don’t you take it? I don’t even have my sword on me right now.” His grin widened and eyes narrowed as if seeking the response to a challenge.
The tip of Owen’s lips coiled maliciously like a snake slithering away in search of prey. “It would be no fun. I want to rip out your eye from your socket in front of your oh so dear and cherished little prince, so he can watch as you shamefully wail on the ground and beg me for mercy. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?”
Cain raised an eyebrow. “His Highness is right there in the hall. I can just call him.” He cupped his mouth, then shouted: “Hey, Arthu— hmmphh.”
Owen appeared behind Cain, slapping a hand over Cain's mouth. “Tch. You don’t get to pick when I do it, you fool. Sit and wait without yapping like a good, sweet dog would.”
Cain took Owen's hand out of his face with a grin. "Ahaha! I'll wait until you're in the mood, then."
Owen's scowl only deepened. "You do that." He pressed his back against the railing, arms crossed.
Cain laughed heartily and unbidden. And of course, Owen attempted to step on his foot in anger, but missed the mark due to Cain's graceful dodge. Owen crossed his arms over his chest as he pouted, softly blowing away strands of hair that fell on his face. Cain couldn’t help but stare. Who would've thought Owen could be a little cute. He almost jolted at the thought, brows jumping to his hairline in alarm.
Cain’s eyes met Owen’s once more, and he turned his head away, flustered.
Owen took offense in that. “What. Is the brave knight afraid he’ll turn to stone?” He grinned.
“No way,” Cain heaved a sigh. It was like a chicken bone had gotten stuck in his throat once again, but he did not have his old friends to hit his back until he spat it out.
There was no chance Owen would take kindly to being called cute, and he would surely call him an idiot and vanish from his sight if Cain were to say something as outrageous as I like discovering new sides of you, and love the expressions you make.
However, as rule of thumb, Cain was flawed like everybody else and, one of these flaws included not thinking very hard when his pulse quickened and he felt like he had to do something. So he spat all of these out with minor probing.
Owen looked at Cain like he had been eating bricks, and he wasn’t Mithra for it to be normal. “What… What do you even…” Owen’s voice trailed off, and he bit his lip, looking downward. He clicked his tongue, turning around. “Mister Knight certainly had one too many drinks with the humans. How pathetic.”
Owen's silhouette looked faint and ephemeral against the moonlight. His skin was so pale it scarcely seemed to belong to a living person instead of the ghost of someone left behind, like an illusion brought by the moon that would vanish and scatter upon touching. Cain furrowed his eyebrows together uncharacteristically, frustrated at something even he did not know. He knew Owen would leave after this, slink away to a place far out of his reach. But the way the tip of Owen's ears were faintly tinted red made Cain’s feet spur into action before his brain could ring alarm bells, as that expression was something undeniably concrete that he felt he could reach out for and touch.
Cain reached out to grab Owen’s wrist, who turned around, incredulous. Owen had no pulse to feel, or any beating heart to speak of, but the warmth that emanated from his skin was undeniably human.
Maybe Cain did have one too many drinks.
“Don’t go,” He pleaded.
Cain wanted to understand, to know about Owen’s sorrows, his past. That was a wish that was purely Cain's, he realized, and he felt an overwhelming need to hold on to it. To stay by his side as an ally, so Cain could feel at ease with himself.
Owen’s gaze had turned cold. “I don’t have business here anymore. I’ve stayed long enough at this stupid place.”
Cain racked his brain for the right words to say. He never had problems expressing himself. Before, it came to him as naturally as breathing, supporting others was in his nature and there was no place he was happier than when he was surrounded by people. Mediating fights between his subordinates, making sure everyone had fun at parties, or being a pillar of support for his comrades; he didn’t have to think twice about it at all.
But Owen was different, and endlessly difficult to parse.
He’d grin when cornered, and easily accept the part of the villain. He’d scowl when embarrassed, but wouldn’t be entirely displeased. He’d steal Cain’s eye one second and pray for his safety the next and, most of all, he’d always, surely, swat away Cain’s hand when he offered help, even when he yearned for it.
If Cain’s selflessness was met with rejection, he thought, then he’d be as selfish as he wished.
"May I have a dance?"
A moment of silence trapped both of them, with nothing but the faint sound of the music seeping through the cracks. A slow but beautiful song meant for lovers, its tranquil tempo highlighting Cain’s erratic heartbeat. Maybe Cain would get blasted off the balcony and would end up ruining Arthur's gardens below, but the proposition so easily rolled out of his tongue like it had been kept safe somewhere, tentatively waiting.
Cain stood with his palm stretched in Owen's direction and gave a half bow like a gentleman.
Owen tilted his head, frowning, looking lost. "What." He spat, eying Cain's hand like it would burn his flesh if touched. "Did you hit your head somewhere?"
When he had a chance to finally grapple with the connotations of this request, blood rushed to his cheeks. "Y-You know, a dance!" Cain pointed, Owen’s eyes followed his finger to the people dancing in the main hall. "It's a party, after all. I don't see why not."
Owen’s face did not express disgust, excitement or embarrassment. It had remained carefully blank, frowning like concentrating on a problem he couldn’t solve. "No.” Was the response he reached, brows furrowed. “No way. What's wrong with you."
"Why don't you want to?" Cain tilted his head.
"Why do you want to? And with me? " He scoffed. "You're the one saying weird things."
"I don't think it's weird. Dancing is fun, and you're my comrade who lives under the same roof as me. It makes plenty of sense." Cain shrugged.
Owen looked at him incredulously. "No. I’m a Northern Wizard, I don’t get all chummy and dance with other people."
"You say that, but I don't see any reason why you'd be so against it." Cain placed his finger over his chin, humming. Then, his face brightened up with an Ah! "Could it be, you don't know how to dance? You don't need to be embarrassed about that!” He was all smiles, balled fist raised excitedly just above his shoulder in encouragement. “See, I can teach you and—"
"You piss me off.” Owen spat. “I know how to dance. And leagues better than your pathetic little legs ever could."
"I don't believe you." Cain shot back.
Owen moved with a groan to face Cain, looking at him dead in the eye.
"Let's do it." He affirmed, tone commandeering as he crossed his arms, chin up.
Cain's smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing. “I knew you’d come around!” And he extended the palm of his hand to Owen once more with a proper half bow.
Light as a feather, Owen placed the palm of his hand against Cain's, until his movements turned sharper as he put more weight into his hand as it slid down to trap Cain's wrist in a vice grip, yanking him closer.
Their chests collided, Cain’s heart jumping and eyes widening in alarm. Owen’s mouth inched closer to Cain’s ear, and he whispered: "I'm not letting you lead."
Cain heaved a sigh then, and laughed. “How about I lead in the next song, then?” Owen clicked his tongue, so he took it as a yes.
He grasped Owen's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. When he felt the touch of Owen’s hand steady on his back, he positioned his hand on Owen's shoulder.
Then they started their dance. Owen stepped forward, and Cain matched his movement. They swayed and spun in circles, right there in the dimly lit balcony, chasing the faint sounds of a song.
"I'll kill you if you step on my foot." Owen led with confidence and precision, not a step out of place. His gaze was fixed on Cain, eyes narrowed as if wondering how well Cain could follow.
Clearly, Owen was skilled, but Cain would not lag behind. They spun and they spun, making circles across the balcony, swaying to the tempo. Cain matched Owen’s steps perfectly, stepping backward when Owen went forward, right when he went left. "I wouldn't do that."
"Like I can trust your word." A somewhat sharp turn to the left, sucking Cain in.
Cain frowned, stealing a glance to his feet. "I wish you would." But he did not slip, matching Owen’s every pace.
"Then let’s see what your wishes amount to, O Mister Knight."
Owen let go of his hand on Cain’s shoulder, throwing them apart with nothing but their joined hands as a thread keeping them together. Owen smirked, red and golden eyes crinkling at the corners. And Cain almost slipped then, not used to the steps of this role, and too used to being the one making others spin under his arm. His golden and red eyes narrowed with determination, and he did not fumble the dance as Owen pulled him back to his chest.
They locked eyes, and Cain smiled. "Gladly."
Owen frowned, placing his hand back on Cain’s back. “Don’t pretend you didn’t almost slip there.” He led Cain in their waltz once more, swaying to the tempo, up, down, left, right.
“But I didn’t, right?” Cain grinned. He spun in sync, confidence never leaving his steps. Down, up, right, left.
The song came to a sudden halt, as did they. Neither of the two were tired, which made Cain’s chest swell with a sense of pride. Owen, on the other hand, didn’t look so amused.
With their bodies still entangled, Cain affirmed, “See? I can keep up just fine.”
Owen tsked. “A stroke of luck. Your breathing is still no good and all over the place, and your legwork could improve.”
“Ahaha, is that so? Strict!” He smiled in response, giving Owen’s hand a squeeze. “I had fun, though. You’re a really good dancer. Didn’t really expect that. I had you pegged as someone with two left feet.”
“You’re so rude…”
Before Cain could retort, music filled the main hall once more, spilling all the way to the balcony. Its rhythm and melody were more agitated and lively, making Cain perk up. Owen groaned, looking cross.
“Well, you owe me one more dance.” Cain winked, extending his hand yet again with a half bow.
“At least make it interesting instead of killing me of boredom. That is, if your mediocre dancing can afford it.” Owen taunted, his hand meeting Cain’s.
“It will be the most fun you’ll have. My friends always tell me I’m good at lighting things up,” He smiled, fingers interlaced with Owen’s as he slid a hand around his waist, “and I’ve never not had fun dancing with someone.”
“I’m not one of your little friends,” He spat, acidly.
Cain chuckled. “Of course not. You’re way meaner.”
Owen’s lips curled into a tiny smile then. “Is that so.”
As the tempo of this song was much faster than the other song’s, Cain felt like getting a little adventurous. In contrast to Owen’s precise and smooth movements, Cain followed his gut, moving in any way he thought would be more fun. Owen raised a brow, but adapted to his movements seamlessly.
It was fun, like linking arms at a fair. They fell into a dance that was easy to follow, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. But it was also messy, like the pieces did not quite fit. Their dance was full of unnecessary steps and agitated, with none of the grace in the former. Cain felt a laugh bubble from within his chest as he threw Owen to the side, only their hands linked, then pulled him closer to his chest. Owen spun and landed against his chest, sticking his tongue out at Cain.
“You’re so rough. Is that how a gentle knight treats his dance partners?” Owen teased, a smile on his lips.
Cain furrowed his brows, feigning being deep in thought. Then, his face opened up with a smile. “Only when I know they can keep up.” And he spun Owen under his arm, his white cape spinning alongside him.
Cain placed his hand back on Owen’s waist, and they continued swaying to the tempo, creating circles in the ceramic floor of the balcony. It was like they were floating with no need of magic. Cain laughed happily as they danced, with Owen soon following, which almost made Cain fumble his steps. I’ve never heard Owen laugh like this before. As the song sped up, so did their dance. Cain thought he wanted to make Owen smile even more.
The song reached its climax, and they scrambled to keep up. Frenzied dancing more with feeling than reason, skill lost somewhere among the laughter and smiles. The final note rang in the air, and Cain’s head went blank as he hunched forward, Owen dipping lower and lower towards the floor.
Then, as if the world had gone to a halt, the music stopped and silence loomed.
There was no sound to be heard aside from the faint chatter coming from the main hall, and the rise and fall of their chests, breaths mingling into one and faces mere centimeters apart.
Eyes with mirrored colors locked, neither daring to say a thing. His legs were sore and he could feel the sweat trickling down his neck, but he only looked at Owen in his arms. His face was all red and his eyes wide in wonder, mouth pressed together in a thin line. His silver hair was disheveled with strands sticking out in every direction, Cain’s red hair falling over his shoulder.
Cain thought Owen looked exceptionally charming.
"Enough for you?" Cain breathed out.
"It wasn’t that boring, and you’re not as bad as I expected," Owen whispered as Cain’s lopsided smile only grew wider. “Hey, Mister Knight. Wipe that dumb grin off your face or I’m doing it for you.”
“Ahaha! Sorry, sorry. I’m just very happy.”
Owen raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because of you,” Cain blurted out.
Owen inhaled, breath catching in his throat. He said nothing, and made no movement, frozen in his arms. Cain closed his eyes, inching closer, closer, closer.
Cain's mouth only came into contact with a gloved hand.
Cain snapped his eyes open. "Owen?" He asked, voice muffled by Owen's hand over his mouth.
And the expression Cain saw in that moment would burn itself inside his heart.
Owen looked lost. He opened his mouth, but his teeth soon clattered shut around whatever sentence he had thought to say. His brows were furrowed in confusion and he looked down, lips pursed together in a thin line, then he bit his lower lip. He had the face of a confused child trying to grapple with why the sky was blue.
"Owen—" Cain carefully removed Owen’s hand covering his mouth, and a sense of wrongness washed over him. He messed up, he crossed a line. He needed to apologize or anything to right his wrongs.
"Cain," Owen interjected, his name rolling out of Owen’s tongue making his stomach flip. Owen shoved Cain away, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. “This was stupid. Don’t think of it anymore.” And his voice was small, as if breaking at the edges. Owen turned on his heel with a flap of his cape, jumping atop the railing. "Cur Memini."
He disappeared into the blackness of the night.
Cain rushed over to look at the gardens below the balcony, eyes scanning over every part of it, only for nothing to be found. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, and blood rushed to his head. Cain groaned while holding his head, frustrated.
He turned around stiffly, and his back slid against the railing until he flopped down into the floor.
Was he wrong? For a moment, Cain felt as if he had managed to break some barriers between him and Owen, just like when Owen had helped him with magic long ago. He was ecstatic, as some part of his heart clung to the mystery that was Owen with fervor. Had he not understood anything?
A sudden voice broke him out of his reverie.
"Ouch. That sure must’ve hurt."
Cain almost jumped out of his skin. "Doctor Figaro?!"
Figaro stared nonchalantly while leaning against the wall on the opposite side, his hair was disheveled and his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as evidenced by the booze he held. Mitile would surely scold him later for not behaving like a responsible adult.
"The one and only. There's hardly anyone as handsome, wouldn't you say?" He ran a hand through his bangs.
Cain managed a wan smile. "Ahaha. I'm sorry you saw that. It was pretty embarrassing alright. Could you keep it a secret between the two of us?”
"Oh no, I'd never make fun of you. Oz would have my head." He lamented. "But, a special word of advice for my dear friend’s disciple."
Cain arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"You're young.” Figaro threw his arms wide open, heaving a labored sigh. “Basically a baby who has just learned how to walk. Getting involved with Northern Wizards will do nothing but age you up before your time."
Cain’s hand gripped his leg tightly. "Why would you say that?"
Figaro hummed, drumming his fingers against the wall. He brought the bottle to his lips once more, only to realize it was empty. He shrugged, throwing it up in the air and making it disappear with a flick of his fingers. "You can't teach a Northern Wizard how to stay for you, I know best how they'll never be bound; be it for friendship, duty, responsibility, or even love. Too much power messes with your head, you see. Of course, you can try, but it’s too much trouble if you ask me. Maybe try a Southern Wizard next time."
Cain's face scrunched up and he joined his hands, gripping them together tightly. "You don't know that. From the Northern Country or from the Central Kingdom, there is no one who is destined to be alone."
Figaro laughed out loud like he hadn't heard something funnier in centuries, throwing his hands up in the air as he turned on his heel. "Of course I don't. I am but a doctor from the South," Figaro stopped, shooting Cain a glance over his shoulder. "And neither do you, having lived short over two decades." He looked wistful, like remembering something long gone. "I must admit I have a soft spot for charming Central kids like you; all lofty ambitions and no experience to back them up."
Figaro's figure became smaller and smaller as he walked off towards the hall, waving him off.
Cain rose from his spot, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He clenched his fists. If Owen was stubborn, so was he.
There was nothing Cain couldn’t overcome with his own power.