Nano Suklaa

Silver hair, purple eyes. They glistened, like amethysts poets would say, but I’m not a poet. I’m just a person, a lonely person far from home, a person whose eyes didn’t glisten like amethysts, but because tears welled up in them. A moment of weakness that I allowed myself, it was only me in this hallway, me and my stack of papers. Plans and schedules, to guard the Palace, even if I'd rather be somewhere else protecting something else entirely.

I close my eyes. Come now, Oliver, there’s no need to shed tears.. be a bit stronger, get away from this place. An Axinian crying in the halls of Roseland’s prized jewel, the Palace.. could it get more tragic, more ironic than this? I wipe away my tears, forcing the bit in my throat to go down as slowly the amethysts change to fit the red shade of my uniform, my hair changes to a blond. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.

Don’t be afraid, Oliver.

No, no more tears. Yet the melody continues to echo. That familiar melody. A piano. Just like..

I had to find the source. For once in my life, determination pulled me onwards. Not a hint of hesitation in sight. I’d find the source of that melody. In this life that felt like a cruel joke, at least I had been blessed with music. One thing we all had common. Surely music meant just as much to some rosenian out there.. perhaps to the one playing this tune, in the middle of the night..? I felt a connection to this person, the fact we both traversed the halls of this horrible Palace, listening to this song that sounded so mellow and melancholic, yet comforting all the same.. there had to be something we shared. I sensed it, and that sensation was something I had yearned for the many months I’ve been stationed here.

I reach the entrance of the ballroom, the smaller one situated in a more secluded part of the Palace. The grand doors are slightly agape, letting me peer into the moon-lit room. The blue light shone over the reflective floors, through the tall glass windows lined with satin curtains, and in the middle there resided a lonely piano. A piano that played a melody just as lonely.

I stood there, mesmerized, gazing at the moon and the piano. It really was that melody, that exact melody. If I just closed my eyes I could imagine myself, in that place..

Suddenly, the music stops.

I snap my eyes open, the silence was deafening, foreboding. Intimidating enough to make me take a step back, perhaps I’d made a mistake, one of many.

“Come in.”

A voice calls out, it was softer than I imagined, but recognizable, too recognizable to make it comforting. I glance around, going over the options I have, but fleeing would make me all too suspicious. With a hesitant step, I enter the ballroom. I felt more at home in the shadows, but now the moon bathed me in its light as I stood in this empty ballroom. I felt bare, unguarded. Even if there laid a sword on my hip, it felt like even that didn’t truly belong to me. It was part of someone else’s life, not mine. It was part of Henry’s life, not Oliver’s.

“Might I inquire your name?” Oliver Everett. “Henry Alvaro.” Did it sound like a lie this time? Something about my tone was different. I was supposed to be the one good at shielding my identity, yet with each passing day I feel I’m becoming more see-through than glass. Especially when he’s the one piercing me with his gaze.

“Ah, the guard captain’s assistant, we met some time ago.” Alewar Albert. The first of the Queen’s Servants. I remember him well. As I hear him stand from his seat, uncertainty tugs at my heart. The piece I had forced down now resurfaced into my throat. Is this really the person I felt so deeply connected to..? Another cruel joke in a chain of cruel jokes?

“What brings you here?” He asks, I stand with my back straight, for once I was thankful it was part of guard etiquette to look straight forward when spoken to. “I heard you play the piano, sir.” I look somewhere far away, past the walls surrounding the Palace, the capital, Roseland.. somewhere much further than that. “It reminded me of.. home.”

“Home?” He inquires. Alewar’s tone is strangely soft, perhaps he did not feel the need to put on a front in the presence of a mere guard. “Yes, home.” A place far away.

My shoulder’s fall, why can’t I force that piece down?

“There is something different about you, Henry Everett.” I break etiquette and look over, the distance between me and the servant somehow makes me feel safe doing so. Perhaps I can’t see his red eyes quite so clearly from here. “Something.. elegant, something rosenians don’t usually have.”

“Are you not the very face of elegance, sir?”

I do not know how to feel upon hearing his words. Are they a compliment..? Yet his word choice makes my stomach sink.

“Some say that yes, but when it comes to rosenians.. it’s different, I’ve noticed. From all the way over here, I could even imagine your hair being silver and eyes amethyst.” My guard was lowered. Hurriedly, I look away, my posture tenses once more. Henry Everett. That’s who I am, that’s who I need to be, there’s no room for Oliver in this palace, in this ballroom. Fear rages within, had he seen through me? For how long had my disguise failed?

“Could I ask you to come here?” He asks, I look to him, then to the floor, at my reflection. Ruby red, just like they should be. I’ve no right to refuse his request, even if the gentleness with which he asks makes it seem as if I did. Slowly, I take a step toward the piano, toward the Servant. I had the time it’d take to reach him to compose myself.

“Henry Everett..” He says my name once more, there’s a curious glint in his eyes, it makes my heartbeat quicken. “Tell me about your home.” “My home, sir?” “Yes, I’d like to know why this song reminded you of it.”

I look down at the piano, it too was pristine and perfect, nothing like the old one at home. But that one was more approachable, more inviting.. I could never play a single key on a piano like the one before me now. It too, like everything else in this palace, was intimidatingly graceful. “I have..” a sister “..a cousin who liked to play that song.”

“I see, Memory of Snow, an-” “Axinian piece, composed by Adrian Valero.” I broke etiquette yet again. Yet I didn’t rush to correct myself. To repair the damage, I add: “You play the song beautifully, sir.”

“..your eyes really are amethyst.” The comment causes my gaze to shoot over to the man. His peering gaze, ruby eyes, pierce me, pierce me in a way that causes my everything to tensen up. My heartbeat stills completely, for a moment it was as if it stopped forever, did the man have that kind of power? To kill with his gaze alone?

I had loosen my guard. Quickly I look away. Another mistake I had made. I should’ve kept my distance. Thousand thoughts run through my mind, yet it also feels empty, my fears have space to run around aimlessly as much as they please. I should’ve known, I should’ve known. Talking of home.. how could I fall for such a-

“Or at least, it sometimes feels as if you do. I can very well see your eyes are red as ever, and your hair isn’t silver, but.. it’d match you, Henry.” Now there wasn’t even fear in my mind. “It’d.. match me, sir..?” Carefully, I look over once more. The fact that we did not share the same traits felt all the more apparent now, standing here like this.

“You have that kind of feeling to you. I can’t put my finger on it, but it seems to be a trait many Axinian’s share. But don’t mind that, an unnecessary observation made by someone who’s nothing better to do.” In that moment, I got a hint of that connection I felt when I rushed here. Had he, too, lowered his guard..? Even if just slightly? “It appears to be quite late, I’m sure you’ve many things to attend to.” He turns around, hands behind his back, he looks at the moon above, I can tell he too is looking somewhere far past it. A thought springs to my mind.

“Could I make one request, sir?” “Hm?” There’s a glint in his eyes, one I’d never seen on his features before. “Could you play that melody one more time?”

And here’s a little story I wrote! Not sure if anyone will see or read this, but if you did, thank you very much! I’m very flattered someone would take the time to read some of my writing. I’d like to post more of my stories here on Tumblr, even if no one sees them. So I think I’ll start doing that! Might post some of my older stuff too, since I have a lot of stories with these characters!

All the characters here are original characters and so is the universe it takes place in.

For context: the main character in this particular short story, Henry or Oliver, is an Axinian spy working in the capital of Roseland. All axinians have silver hair and purple eyes, while rosenians have red eyes and natural hair colors. Henry has to disguise himself and uses a special ability to change his features. Henry Alvaro is his fake name, while Oliver Everett is his real name.