~LEVI~

"This," Prince Charles said as he opened the door to the next room, "is the fencing room."

So far, we've gone through the Grand Common Room, the Kitchens, and a few other standard rooms. Now, we're getting to the interesting parts of the tour.

The fencing room was large, with several mats set up for practice. Against the far wall was a large wooden case containing several foils, épées, and sabres.

"You any good?" I asked with a smirk as we entered the room.

"I'd like to say so," Charles answered, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. Prince Charming sure does blush a lot.

I crossed the room to the case at the back, pulling it open and grabbing a foil. "Prove it."

"Levi, I don't think that's a good idea. We're not even wearing–"

"Blah, blah, blah. Come on, Charles, it's not like we're going to kill each other. Just a quick match, pleeeeaaaaase?"

The prince sighed in defeat, grabbing a foil himself. "Fine, but if we get in trouble for this–"

"We won't," I assured. "Goodness, you're such a good boy."

"Is that meant to be an insult?"

"Yes and no. Now shut up and fight me," I challenged.

Charles chuckled, walking over to one of the mats. "Well hurry up then, mate," he smirked, holding his foil at his side.

He was good, I'll give him that. Very good, to be specific. He'd block all of my attacks with a swift parry and counter with a riposte. Unfortunately for him, I'm not too shabby myself. I parried every one of his lunges. When he attempted to disengage me, I countered with a swift circle parry.

We were pretty evenly matched. The fight could have lasted a while.

That is if he didn't have to go and open his big fat mouth.

"You're quite good at this," his words came out in quick breaths.

I felt myself forget what I was doing at his compliment. His words threw me off guard completely. The simple statement distracted me from what I was doing. For a man I'd just met earlier tonight, he had a crazy affect on me.

He took the opportunity to lunge, thrusting his blade towards me. He didn't make contact because we were wearing no equipment, but the message was clear: he won.

"Well played, Prince Charming, well played," I sighed, accepting defeat. "I'm definitely calling for a rematch sometime. I totally would have beaten you if I hadn't gotten... er ... distracted."

"Whatever you say, Levi," he remarked sarcastically. "Now come on, I want to show you the music room."

My eyes brightened. "Music?"

We put our foils back and exited the room, heading to one further down the hall. Charles opened the massive doors to reveal the biggest music room I'd ever seen.

I might as well have just walked into a nicest music store. Instruments of ever color, shape, and size lined the walls. A sparkling white grand piano in the center of the room was calling my name, but my eyes immediately went to the guitars.

Guitar has always been my favorite instrument. I find freedom when I play it. No matter how many restraints are put on my life, a strong melody will always make me feel like I can do anything.

This is heaven. At least thirty guitars hung on the walls, each different. Some were vintage, some modern, some acoustic, some electric. All gorgeous.

"I swear your palace is going to be the death of me," I breathed. Charles chuckled next to me.

"I take it you like music?" He guessed, raising a playful eyebrow.

"Music is everything to me," I said honestly. "I may not be able to travel the world, or even the city, but music is universal. It doesn't matter where you go, or what language you speak. If you play an instrument right, your message can be spread to any audience. Music is the one thing that makes me feel connected to the rest of the world." I explained.

"I just went off again didn't I?" I mentally slapped myself upside the head. "I really need to stop doing that, it's probably quite annoying..."

"No it's not," Charles assured. "I think it's c–uh... Interesting. I think it's interesting. Yeah."

Was he about to... No, of course not.

"You can play something, if you'd like," he changed the subject quickly, noticing that I was eyeing the guitars.

"Oh, I don't want to mess up the strings or anything," I said shyly, even though I would love to play one of those guitars more than anything.

"Don't worry about that," Charles assured. "I can't play, and neither can my mother or father. It would be nice for these things to get used every once in a while."

"Wait, you don't have any siblings?" I asked, surprised. Charles shook his head.

"I'm an only child."

"Hm, must be nice," I felt a spark of jealousy.

"Actually, I've always wanted siblings."

"No you don't."

"I don't?"

"Not if your parents are anything like mine," I said bitterly. "Especially not if you're the youngest of seven kids. I love my sister, Amelia, to death. My five brothers..."

"Not so much?" Charles guessed. I nodded grudgingly.

"'Oh Levi, you look at Jeremy, he does so well in his classes!'" I mocked. "'Oh Levi, why can't you be more like your brother Geoffrey?' 'Oh Levi, put down that stupid guitar and focus on what's important! You know, I'm sure if you studied like Adam, you could make us so proud!' 'Oh Levi, when are you going to get married? All of your brothers are married, you know. When are you going to take your position as Prince of Author seriously and start following their examples?'"

My hands were balled into fists by the time I had finished. I don't know why I'm telling Charles everything; it's as if the words just flow out of me when I'm with him.

"Levi," he said softly, placing a strong hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I know it must be hard to feel like you're in someone's shadow. But from what I've seen of you today, I can already tell that you're more important than you or anybody else gives you credit for."

I looked at him strangely. "You've only just met me," I said quietly.

"I know. That's what makes it so incredible."

He smiled, something that I was starting to love more and more. His smile was honest—there was nothing fake about it. The simple look made me know that he meant everything he said. I found myself smiling back, maybe even blushing a little.

"Now come on, I want to see what you can do," he urged, motioning to the guitars around him.

I scanned the selection. There were so many to pick from, but one particular one caught my eye. I recognized it as an acoustic Laura Fauna Phoenix. It wasn't the most spectacular of the guitars there, but I'd always wanted to play one.

Hesitantly, I took it off of its stand, holding it carefully. I sat on the bench of the grand piano and examined the guitar. It's intricate design of a phoenix is what had attracted me to it, and it was even more gorgeous up close.

I started by strumming a simple C-Major scale. The guitar was a bit out of tune, so I fixed it. The sound it created when in tune was gorgeous.

"What song do you want me to play?" I asked.

"Whatever you'd like."

I thought for a minute, but couldn't decide on a song. My fingers started working in their own, strumming the notes to one of my favorite songs. I sang out the words, letting instinct take over.

The lyrics told a sad story, one about growing up as the one imperfection in an otherwise flawless picture, holding secrets and faking smiles and sacrificing true wants and desires for some vague, conditional thing called heaven.

I stopped abruptly as I realized what I was singing. Why would I choose that, of all songs? In the few hours I've known Charles, I've already shared most of my insecurities with him. Why? It's as if I have no control of what I say or do around him. As if he's meant to know all of my secrets.

Hesitantly, I looked up at him. His expression wasn't judgmental or uncomfortable—it was that same child-like fascination. As if what I'd just done was the coolest thing ever.

"You have an incredible voice," Charles said sincerely, snapping me out of my confusion.

There it is again. There's that weak in the knees feeling I get whenever he compliments me.

"T-thanks," I stuttered, standing and putting the guitar back on its stand. It was then that I noticed a door at the far end of the room. "What's past that door over there?"

Prince Charles's cheeks flushed red. "Um... Nothing much," he lied.

"Yeah, right," I said sarcastically. "What is it?"

"It's nothing, it's just the art room," he said quickly. He doesn't want me to go in there.

"Can we go in?" I asked, expecting an immediate 'no'. Instead, Charles hesitated for a moment. After a minute of seemingly having an internal conflict, he gave in.

"Yeah, fine."

When he'd said art room, I expected a simple tidy area with some crafts and a few canvases. I didn't expect what I saw.

The room was smaller than most rooms in the castle, but it could still be a master bedroom. Hanging on the walls, laying on tables, and leaning against every surface were more painting than I could count. Years of work were displayed in from of my eyes in every genre. From classic to pop art to surrealism, there was every type of painting imaginable. Some were detailed landscapes, some were abstract shapes, all were beautiful. Even the most simple designs had extremely intricate detail.

"These are awesome. Who painted them?" I asked in awe.

"Um... Me," Charles answered shyly.

"You're kidding."

But he wasn't. When I looked back at him, a bashful blush had spread over his cheeks.

"These..." I scanned the paintings, trying to take them all in. "These are all yours?"

"I suppose, yes."

"Charles, these are incredible! How are you so good?"

"I...I'm not..."

"Bullshit. You're amazing! Where do you get your inspiration from?" I asked.

Charles shrugged, slowly becoming more comfortable with the situation. "Everything, I suppose. If something is on my mind, I paint it. If I think something is pretty, I paint it. If something upsets me, I paint it," he explained.

"You're... You're a lot more than meets the eye, Prince Charming," I said sincerely.

He blushed. "Thanks... I think."

Chuckling lightly, I said, "That was a compliment, I promise."

It was then that I noticed something odd. There were multiple of some paintings. They all looked the same to me, but there were subtle differences I couldn't really put a finger on. Some paintings were done two or three times. One, I noticed, had been painted six times, and there was another unfinished one sitting on an easel.

"Why do you repaint the same images?" I questioned. My eyebrows furrowed; it just didn't make sense, unless he was selling them. For some reason I found that quite unlikely.

"If I don't like one, I'll redo it differently," Charles explained.

"But they're same..." I said dumbly.

Charles laughed as if I'd made a joke. "No, Levi, they're not. Look at this one," he gestured me over to a simple landscape of a pretty beach. "I did this one with acrylics, but I didn't like it. So I redid it with standard paints. I still wasn't a fan, so I tried watercolors. I liked the watercolors, but I didn't like the shade of pink I used in the sky, so I went for a shade that was a bit closer to red in the final product, see?"

"Honestly? Not really," I said truthfully. I saw no difference between the paintings. Charles laughed again—a beautiful sound, by the way.

"That's fine, I shouldn't expect you to. I suppose I'm just a bit of a perfectionist."

"I suppose you are," I grinned.

My eyes fell upon the photo on the easel. It was large, about 3 by 3 feet. In the center, it pictured a castle—this castle. However, instead of depicting it as regal and impressive, it was dark and intimidating. It cast a shadow over the land; everything was gray. Ever tree was bare, every pond was dry.

But outside of the castle grounds, everything exploded in color on all sides. Terrains of every kind swirled in an array of light beyond the castle's borders. I spotted a beach, a forest, a meadow. There was a desert, a marshland, a city.

The painting was so detailed, so intricate. So meaningful, but what did it mean?

Then it struck me. The castle was a boundary, a prison, blocking out the rest of the world. It kept the light out and the darkness in. Past the restraints, there was so much to see and explore.

"So you have thought about it before," I said. Charles hesitated, but nodded.

"I guess I have, yeah. It's just... I don't know. I didn't want to say anything because, well, I hate to complain," Charles said quietly. "But what you said earlier is true—they do try to keep us cooped up in the castle. I can't help but wonder what's out there, you know? Of course I've been out into the city, and I've been to a few islands for special events and such, but there's a whole world to explore..." He faltered. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm saying. I must sound quite daft..."

I shook my head, a smile gracing my features. "No, Charles, you don't. Not at all." I couldn't help but be excited that he agreed with me. "There are so many things to do, places to go, people to see. We're only getting a fraction of what's out there. Nothing represents that better than this painting. It's genius!"

There was the blush again. He blushed quite a lot—not that I'm complaining. It's terribly cute.

"It's not genius... It's missing something," Charles said, eyebrows furrowed. This is my seventh attempt, and I still don't know what it needs. I like the concept, but I just can't get the painting right."

"It looks pretty 'right' to me."

"No, it's definitely missing something." Charles looked up at a clock perched on the wall that I hadn't noticed. "Never mind that. The ball will be wrapping up soon, and you still haven't seen the gardens."

~~~

My jaw must have hit the floor. This castle never ceased to leave me breathless. Out of everything I've seen tonight, however, this was the most stunning.

Flowers of every shape and size glowed in the moonlight. Purples orchids danced next to yellow tulips, swaying to the melody of the breeze. Red hyacinths, pink roses, white chrysanthemums—every beautiful flower imaginable was growing here. A magnolia tree glistened with large white flowers. In the center of it all, a bench sat next to a small pond, where water lilies sparkled on the surface.

The gardens back home were nothing like this. They were too neat, too organized. Everything was grouped by color. Here, the flowers mingled. They held a more unkept vibe. This is how gardens should be.

Charles sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to him. I took a seat, mentally debating whether to look at the gardens or him. I chose the more attractive option, which happened to be him.

No hard feelings, garden. You're cute too.

"So, Prince Charming," I began playfully. "Anyone ever call you Charlie?"

Charles shook his head. "No, it's always just been Charles."

"Well, would you mind if I called you Charlie?"

He smiled. "Not one bit."

We sat in comfortable silence for a minute, just enjoying each other's presence. It's crazy to think we met just a few hours ago. I feel like I've known him for years. 

"Tell me about Amelia," he said randomly. He must have seen my surprised expression, because he continued. "You mentioned her earlier—you guys sound pretty close. Tell me about your relationship."

"Oh god, where do I start?" I went through my memories, all the way back to when we were kids. "Well, we're twins, first of all. She's technically older, but I'm clearly the more awesome twin–" Charlie scoffed.

"Well excuse me. I'm going to choose to ignore that," I glared at the cute prince playfully. "Anyways, ever since I could talk, I was different from my brothers. They were the 'perfect' princes, and I wasn't. My parents saw me as rebellious, I saw myself as human. When we were about nine, I noticed Amelia starting to become a bit more uptight. She wouldn't go play with me outside. Instead, she'd sit around studying while balancing seven books on her head. To this day, I still don't see why that was necessary, but whatever. She was starting to act like the 'perfect' princess, and nine year old me wasn't having any of it. You see, I used to sneak out into the city all the time. Hell, I still do. Amelia would always try to stop me, but I'd refuse. In the end, she's be worried about my safety, so she'd come with me. Sometimes, when she was being extra difficult, I would refuse to do my studies until she agreed to come with me. I helped her develop a rebellious side, and she helped me stay on top of my grades. That's still kind of how it is now, to be honest. We keep each other grounded."

"She must be really important to you," Charlie said.

"She's everything to me. We'd give up anything for each other. But enough about me. How about you, Mr. Charlie? Tell me about your life."

"There's not much to tell, really," he said with a shrug. "As you know, I'm an only child. My parents are very, very traditional. They have an idea in their heads of what a 'proper' prince should be like, and it's my job to fulfill it. Ever since I can remember, my days have been packed with lessons. Falling behind in my studies isn't an option. If I wasn't taking an academic class, I was practicing either fencing or ballroom dancing. Those are the three things my parents always thought a 'proper' prince should be skilled in. When it came to things I like, I had to make my own time. I used to stay up so late sketching and painting that I'd get in trouble the next day for falling asleep during history lessons. Once, I skipped a maths lesson to work on a sketch when I was eight. My mother took away all of my art supplies until she thought that I had 'gotten my priorities straight'," Charlie rolled his eyes, using air quotes. "That was the extent of my rebellious actions. After that, I focused on my studies like they wanted. I never complained, because I felt that that would be ungrateful. But I'd always wished I had a little more time to focus on my interests. Things like art, and horseback riding—I love horseback riding."

"Did they ever give you more time?" I asked curiously. Charlie snorted.

"As if. The only reason I ever loosened up my schedule is because Philip, my butler, is also the fencing instructor, and he told my parents that I didn't need as much practice. He changed my schedule from every day for two hours to every other day for one hour. If it were up to them, I'd still be fighting for two hours a day."

"Are you in Philip close?" He really didn't need to answer that. It was obvious just from the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the butler.

"Yeah, he's my best mate. I've known him my entire life, and he's always been there for me," he glanced at me, smiling. "You two would get along. You're both sarcastic twats."

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding," Charles amended.

"Sure, Prince Charming, sure."

"I was! Anyways, that's pretty much it. What now?" Charlie cocked his head slightly, unsure of what to do next.

So. Damn. Cute.

"Well," I started, "you said that the time you skipped maths was the extent of your rebellious actions, correct?" Charles nodded. "Well then, we can change that."

"What do you mean?" Charlie narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Let's start with something simple. One of the fundamental rules of being a prince," I deepened my voice into an obnoxiously exaggerated version of my British accent, "is that you aren't supposed to fool around at formal events. Your job is to make your kingdom look good, so you've got to keep your act sophisticated, correct?"

"Where is this going?" The prince was skeptical.

"Race you down the hill!" I exclaimed, jumping off of the bench and racing to the back of the garden, which dipped into a steep hill.

"Levi!" Charles called. "What are you doing? If you get caught—"

"I guess the only way to stop me is to catch me!" I yelled as I neared the edge of the gardens, careful not to damage any plants.

I heard a loud groan, before quick footsteps sounded behind me. I looked back to see Charlie sprinting after me. His expression was annoyed for sure, but there was also a hint of excitement. I knew the boy wouldn't be able to resist a game.

He was fast, really fast. Too bad for him, so was I. As he gained on me, I sped up, running as fast as I could. I passed the gardens, the top of the hill only meters away.

I slowed down—not enough for him to notice, but enough for him to catch up quite a bit. Perfect.

He was right on my heels, an arms reach away from me. As we reached the edge of the hill, I stopped abruptly. Charlie, who wasn't ready for the sudden change, ran straight into my back with a yelp.

We crashed to the ground, rolling down the steep hill in a tangle of limbs. We tumbled for what seemed like forever until we crashed at the base of the hill.

We were both laughing histerically. Covered in grass, we would probably look insane to a passing eye.

"You...fucking...prick," Charles wheezed in between laughs, throwing his head back.

I gasped dramatically, although it broke into laughter halfway through. "Watch your... profanity," I said through my giggles.

I looked him up and down. He was gorgeous when he laughed—not that he wasn't gorgeous all of the time.

That's when I noticed the position we were in. My laughing died abruptly, replaced by a sharp intake of breath.

I was literally straddling Prince Charming. My legs were on either side of his, and his hands were on the ground, holding him up. I was practically on top of him; we were nearly nose to nose. I should have moved, but my muscles weren't cooperating with my brain.

Charlie's laughter cut off at my sudden change. His cheeks flamed red as he realized what a compromising position we were in. Yet he didn't make any attempt to move either.

Instead, he reached up with one hand and tenderly pulled a blade of grass from my hair, brushing my cheek in the process. He furrowed his eyebrows at his hand, as if it had moved of its own accord.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... That was weir—"

Now, I'm not the kind of guy to go around kissing people I'm not in a relationship with. I'm definitely not the kind of guy to go around kissing people who I didn't know until a few hours ago.

But Prince Charles, he was different. I don't believe in love at first sight, but whatever it was that I had for this boy I'd just met, it was real.

'If you don't try something tonight, you may never get another chance. And if you try something tonight and it doesn't go well, you probably won't have to worry about ever crossing paths again. So just go for it.'

I closed the distance between us, connecting our lips.