Art is a feeling. Making art is an experience more than a pursuit, it is a tether between minds; the plank that bridges two passing ships.

There's something enchanting about sitting alone in your own private space, with silver glow stones for light, a stained brush in one hand, and bottles of ink serenaded at your feet while you give a bleed expression into a blank canvas.

Enchanting, was not, however, how a certain princess was feeling in this same scenario. She felt rather stuck, and that had been happening to her too often lately.

"Hmm..." she sat back on her high-backed chair, regarding her work-in-progress with a critical eye. Golden pinpricks of stars on a black background so they looked like fireflies in the darkest of nights. She supposed it could be something but what?

A single glance to her right where she usually discarded her 'not-good-enough' works contrived a frown to marr her smooth facial features.

That pile's slowly becoming a mountain of discarded dreams.

Just then came a persistent set of irritating knocks on her door. She exhaled deeply, carefully putting her brush and ink tray aside. She unbolted the door and before she could address the unwanted visitor, they pushed her aside and helped themselves inside.

"Bellie! Father is seeing someone. We have to go see," Nasmine said without preamble. She could be like that on some days.

"Father is always seeing someone, Nas. Besides, I'm busy."

Nasmine narrowed her eyes at her and snorted. "Yes, you sure are. But it's different this time. It's him."

A pause. Him?

"You're certain?"

"Almost. We have to be quick. Galmonis is leading them in already." Nasmine was already pulling her out of the studio. Bellie allowed herself to be pulled.

"Any idea of where he'll be meeting them?"

"His private study," Nasmine answered without turning back.

It was late and the maids had taken their leaves for the night so the broad cream-coloured tapestried corridors were empty for the sisters' near sprint to their father's private study.

A silver jewel on Nasmine's wrist caught her eye as they raced on. "Where did you get that?"

"Get what?" Nasmine asked as they reached the old storeroom behind their father's study room.

"The bracelet. I don't recall you ever having it until now."

"Oh, this, Anzio gave it to me." She grinned as they snuck into the storeroom. "I dared him to take it from his mother's collection and the silly boy did." She whispered conspiratorially. Her mirthful glee dissolved in the face of Bellie's stern disapproval.

"Interesting. See that you give it back to him in the morning. Lady Jacienda isn't known for her forgiving spirit."

Bellie slowly moved the viewing grate that was roughly at her eye level. Besides her Nasmine worked expertly on her grate. Someone on the other side wouldn't notice the grates unless they were standing a few paces from the wall, and even then it won't be as obvious as a blood stain on a sparkling white ball gown.

Bellie could see their father seated on his chair confidently scribbling in those broad elegant strokes of his that took Bellie years of practice to match. Even then hers was still a vivid parody of her father's.

The anticipated knock came and her father called for them to enter. Blocky face Galmonis half entered the room.

"Your Majesty, they're here." They?

"Let them in."

Galmonis shuffled aside and in those few seconds she quickly pictured a snobbish pinched face man that possessed a permanent sneer on his lips; his only redeeming quality being the silver hair of the Algiovann line.

So it was much to her surprise when the man who entered the room was a variant of her expectations.

"His hair..." Nasmine whispered the sentiment. "So that's Bon."

Bellie supposed he was. His hair was of a much silvery shade than anyone in her family including her late brother. He certainly had a pretty face, the sneer was also absent. His clothing however was stained with what she guessed to be booze and...blood?

A second man walked into the room. This one mirrored Bellie's expectation of him, considering what she'd heard of him. Nasben's paranoia was about the place, casting suspicious glances at the corners of the study room, his eyes lingering a moment longer at the grate holes.

He looked like Bon but was a much rougher and weathered version of his son. His hair while dull compared to Bon's was still richer than her father's. His coat was missing a sleeve; the skin there was about sporting a bruise. Did he get into a fight? Both father and son were well-muscled and matched each other in bulk and height.

Her father smiled warmly at them as they bowed. "Your Majesty," they said in unison.

"Nasben," Vishen said fondly. "How are you, cousin?"

Nasben grunted in reply. Her father didn't seem to take offence. It was Bon who answered instead. "The old man's fine, your grace. I am sorry for his manners."

"It's fine, Bon. Tell me something Bon, who's managing your estates while you're away?"

Bon visibly looked caught off guard by the question. "I- majesty, it's um... we leave it all to the Master of the House, Tam."

Her father's eyebrows climbed in approval. "I remember him. So he managed to stay in employ all these years, Nasben."

Nasben's lips quirked in an almost smirk. Bellie was surprised when he spoke for he sounded nothing like the way he looked. "Tam is loyal, your grace," Nasben said in clean polished aristocratic tones.

"I'm sure he is. I was informed you entered the city a few hours ago. We were getting worried when you didn't arrive here."

Father and son exchanged knowing glances.
"The old man had to see a friend."

Her father smiled his knowing smile. Whatever Bon and Nasben were hiding, Vishen knew of it, and from Bon's expression, it was clear he too could tell.
"I'm sure he had to. Well, brothers, I shan't keep you here. Galmonis will have someone show you to your rooms, we'll speak better in the morning. Goodnight."

"Thank you, majesty," Bon said as he bowed. Nasben copied him.

And they left.

Her father stared at the closed door quietly for a while and she began to think he was going to call her and Nasmine out. He didn't. She gently tapped Nasmine and they fixed the round stones back into their fissures. They snuck out the same way they had come in.

"What do you think of Nasben?" Nasmine asked suddenly on their way to their rooms. "I don't like him. Bon though, he looks younger than Obert."

"He's older than Vince," Bellie said absently. "I suppose they are both something. I haven't got a good picture of them yet to say." She continued after a pause.

Nasmine scoffed beside her. "They are not one of your paintings, Bellie." Her sister shook her head and turned into the next corridor by her left. "Goodnight Bellie."

*******

Say it, Boy.

Say it. Say it.

Say the words, Bon!

Bon rose from his sleeping cot; a pile of expensive woollen cloaks he found in the wardrobe. He craned his neck to see Tomi peacefully sleeping on the king-size bed.

Bon did a few stretches and squats, anything to keep his mind away from that nightmare. The words, the voice whispered again.

"It's not the mudpiss words, you fool."

Bon crossed the room in two quick steps and pulled the door open. The maid jumped, nearly causing her to drop the bucket of steaming water on herself.

"Bathwater, my lord."

Bon moved aside for her to do her thing. When she returned from the bathroom, he said, "Can I get another for her?" He pointed at Tomi still sleeping on the bed.

"Of course, my lord."

"It's Bon, not my lord." But the door was already slammed shut. He sucked his teeth at that.

A while later he and Tomi were practically gallivanting like they owned the place, the sound of their boots on the dark marble floor. Tomi surely looked the part of a boss doing morning circuits in her establishments, casting a critical eye here and there. Bon would be her faithful right-hand man in that regard. The train of thought brought a smile to his lips.

She looked at him then.

"You should have worn a dress. Those breeches make you look like a boy."

Tomi stuck her tongue at him. They came to a stop at another intersection of corridors. It occurred to Bon that they were probably lost in the maze that was the castle.

Luckily for them, something nearby was smelling good. Bless Ilmonya.

There was a guard in uniform by the door, he had a broad sword at his hip but made no move to bar them from entering the room with nice appetizing aromas.

"Looks like we found the dining room." Tomi was at the table before the words had completely left his mouth. A loaf of steaming bread was devoured in two. Her appetite was three times her size, he had to remind himself.

"Well, save some for me, lioness." Without pause, she reached for the pile of fruits next to the tray of pastries and threw him an apple, a red one. He caught it, slipping it into his shirt. Tomi threw a banana, then another apple, this one green. Bon caught both, saluted her then helped himself.

He went back to the door, with little hope of engaging that guardsman in casual conversation or gossip, guards liked that sort of thing.

"I take it someone's supposed to be having breakfast in here."

The man just grunted. By Ilmonya, I hope everyone here doesn't speak Nasben.

"I was told to expect you, my lord. And yes, the royal family is supposed to break their fast in the dining hall."

"They're late," Bon said as he took another bite from his apple only to nearly choke on it when he heard a scream from the dining hall.

What in Mudfell?

"Gergin, remove this thing from the table at once!" A red-faced girl shouted in Tomi's direction. Gergin, a mean-looking fellow, was prancing to do as he had been instructed by the girl.

"Lay your hands on her and it'll be the last time you'll ever make use of them," Bon said loudly and clearly. He had allowed enough acid to drip into his tone, rich with threat and the promise of blood.

That stopped Gergin in his tracks. His expression was one of confusion. Bon had wanted it to be one of irritation.

"Who are-" the mean girl was saying then lost her voice or such, not that he cared.

Bon held Gergin's eyes and he had to admit the fellow had stones for balls for he didn't back down. He looked like he knew how to use that sword at his hip— he had a firm hand on its hilt. However good he was, Gergin was most certainly oblivious to the fact that Bon had knives in his sleeves and at that distance, he could have Gergin's windpipes open to the winds before he drew his sword. That was probably going too far considering where they were but Bon didn't care. The man had attempted to put a hand on Tomi. Something Bon wasn't going to let slide.

A new voice did well to erase the tension and probably saved Gergin that morning. "Ah, it seems you've met Bon, sister," the newcomer said. She was prettier than her sister, at least she was to Bon.

"Hello, Bon, the lady whose personal guard you're having a stand down with is Princess Vince."

Bon's eyes flitted to Princess Vince who still hadn't found her voice. He should have bowed and apologized but to Mudfell with that. If she was Vince, then the sister was...

"Princess Belliendra," he said. Her, he gave a respectful bow.

"Formal." She acknowledged his bow with a respectful nod. "And who is this?" She smiled encouragingly at Tomi.

Bon turned to her and saw that her mouth was stuffed. She had probably stopped eating when Vince and her thug entered the hall.

"T-o-m-i," she signed the letters of her name in answer to the Princess's question but Bon doubted if Belliendra was fluent in sign language. Turned out she was.

"Tomi, that's a cute name. Is she your..."

Bon snorted. "She's my sister." And Tomi nodded in agreement. Just then, the king and queen in their rich matching robes of gold and black— the colours of House Algiovann— entered the dining hall.

The king was still very much like how he had been the night before. Intuitive, calm and calculated. That was a deadly combination of traits for any commander to have in war and more so for a king. The queen gave Bon the impression of a woman who didn't abide by foolishness. He could see where Vince got her likeness from.

Everyone bowed and curtsied as was appropriate and their majesties took their seats at the table. Bon noticed the new princess at the table who was staring unabashedly at him. So that's Nasmine. She looks like a pouting miniature of the queen.

The doors of the dining hall were pushed open and the Bon wasn't surprised to see the old man.

"Looks like his royal highness has decided to grace us with our presence," he whispered in Tomi's ear. She grinned in return.

"Majesties," the old man sketched them a lazy bow then took a seat at the foot of the polished wood table opposite the king. As long he isn't close to me.

"Nasben, you didn't tell me you had a daughter," the queen inquired in a rich aristocratic tone, one Bon wouldn't have hoped to match.

"I don't, majesty. The boy brought her back from the Marshes." That was all the old man said on the matter.

The king cleared his throat which got him the attention of everyone at the table.

"It is no news that with Prince Obert's passing, there has been a vacuum. One that cannot be allowed to stay that way. The matter of succession is the bread and wine of the council now and they cannot stress enough how much the crown needs an heir, a male heir."

Bon frowned, he didn't know much about how these things work but he wasn't sure he liked where the king was riding to. Since he had fathered no sons other than Obert that left the crown with the option of seeking cousins. Closely related cousins. Ilmonya...

"Bon," the king said his name with emphasis, his steel-grey eyes heavy with implications. Goddess, no. "The Crown wishes to make you its heir."

Shit!