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The noble's ballroom was vast and radiant, it's crystal chandeliers scattering a thousand glittering lights across silk gowns and tailored black suits. The orchestra played a gentle waltz, not too fast, just enough to let each couple glide gracefully without haste. The scent of roses mingled with the faint sweetness of burning beeswax candles, making the air feel warm and slightly sweet.
On the dance floor, footsteps moved in steady rhythm. Leather shoes brushed against polished marble, and long gowns swept the ground like small waves. Some couples danced with serious focus, carefully following the tempo, while others smiled and exchanged lighthearted words, their movements still in tune with the music. Though the atmosphere seemed pleasant and familiar, everyone was still trying to present their best under so many watchful eyes.
Preoccupied with their own affairs and with no one seeking his company, William stood alone on the balcony. His slender hand held a crystal glass filled with red wine. The liquid shimmered like rubies under the candlelight spilling from the hall. Yet his lips never truly touched the rim. He merely swirled the glass slowly, watching the deep red color spin and leave thin traces along the glass walls. His mind was already too full tonight, and alcohol would only cloud it further.
The night air drifted softly across the balcony, carrying with it the faint fragrance of roses planted in the palace garden. He savored the quiet until the sound of light footsteps came from behind him. William didn't turn and already familiar with the way that particular presence approached. He knew it was his brother before the gentle voice reached him.
"Are you bored?"
Albert spoke with a tone that was half in jest. He stepped closer and leaned casually against the railing beside William. His eyes flicked to the untouched glass of wine.
"You're not drinking it. Doesn't it suit your taste tonight?"
William chuckled quietly at his brother's remark. His gaze returned to the wine he had been holding for several minutes. The surface glimmered softly, catching the glow of the lantern set in the corner of the balcony. He raised the glass slightly, as though deciding whether to drink or not. At last he tilted it to his lips and pretended to sip, letting the liquid brush just the tip of his tongue. He allowed no more than a drop to pass his throat, but enough to give the impression he had tasted it.
The familiar flavor emerged, the subtle acidity of ripe grapes mixed with a faint lingering bitterness. And he swallowed with a bitter aftertaste.
"The wine is as fine as ever. I just don't feel like drowning myself in something that makes everything even more blurred."
Tonight was already blurred enough for William. Something was churning inside his chest, though he couldn't name what it was. The feelings tangled together, pulling him deeper into their weight.
Albert studied him closely, his eyes never missing the smallest gesture. He knew William too well, the rhythm of his breath, the slightest movement of his lips, even the way he held a glass was a language clear to him. And now, that language told him William was holding something back. Whether it was mental fatigue or a vague nameless emotion, Albert knew better than anyone that his brother wasn't in a good state of mind. No matter how neatly William hid his unease behind a faint smile, Albert could always see through it.
But Albert didn't mention it. He rarely did. Since childhood, he had known that William never opened up when pressed. So instead of asking questions that would go unanswered, he shifted the subject.
"The music is beautiful. A shame to hear it only from afar. How about we enjoy this night with a dance?"
William lifted his head slowly. For a brief moment, his crimson eyes caught the light of the chandelier swaying inside the hall. That fleeting look was enough to make Albert's words echo longer in the air.
"Don't you think dancing here would draw too much attention?"
He understood Albert's meaning well, an invitation to dance in a place never meant for it, especially when in the eyes of others they were brothers. Yet the idea wasn't entirely foreign. The more he thought of it, the more it seemed strangely reasonable.
Albert wasn't offended in the least by the gentle protest. He simply extended his hand, calm and patient, as though waiting for a choice that only William could make.
"Why not, Will?"
William stared at that hand longer than he should have. Doubt flickered in his expression, though his face remained composed as always. His eyes dropped to the wine glass still in his hand. He swirled the dark liquid once more, then set it carefully on the railing, leaving a damp ring where condensation slid down the glass. At last he lifted his hand and placed it on Albert's. The warmth was so steady and reassuring that William wished to hold it forever.
Albert looked at him with an expression that was hard to define, somewhere between relief and pride, before drawing William a little closer. The music seeped from the ballroom, faint but clear enough to follow. Strings and piano blended into a gentle waltz. William allowed himself to be led. His body tensed at first, fully aware of the absurdity of what they were doing.
The night air brushed against his face, carrying the soft scent of roses from the garden below. He could hear the distant murmur of the fountain, mingling with the chorus of night insects. Strangely, it all blended perfectly with the music drifting from inside.
Their first steps were slow, almost tentative. William let Albert guide him, adjusting his movements with ease. Once, he glanced into the hall through the open doors. He caught the gleam of chandeliers, the swirl of colorful gowns, and the obligatory false smiles of nobility. It all seemed so far away, even though it was only a few steps from them.
He turned back to Albert. His brother's face was bathed in moonlight, revealing soft lines rarely seen amidst the crowd. There was genuine warmth there, not the social mask they both wore for others. William realized that perhaps only in moments like this could he see Albert as he truly was, free of all the burdens of duty.
He felt the pulse in his fingertips, the gentle heat of Albert's hand guiding him. Even the faint vibration of the music seemed to flow through his chest, merging with his own heartbeat.
They turned once, twice. With every step, William felt his chest thunder louder. His heartbeat clashed against the music, uneven yet speaking in a language only the two of them could understand.
On the third turn, a realization struck William, leaving him silent inside. The way Albert held his hand made him feel that his brother wanted to lead him, especially when he was lost. Albert had always sensed what William never said.
"Thank you, brother."
That was all William managed to say. Simple words, almost too short to contain what he truly felt. Yet they carried the very core of what pressed at his heart.
Albert didn't answer right away and only smiled faintly. William needed nothing more, for between them many things never required explanation. The grip on his hand remained unchanged, steady, firm, and gentle, a promise that Albert would always be there no matter what came.