Honey and Lavender

Angela sat and watched her brother in the chair, the old man meticulously working through his curls, combing through each tight ringlet. He has a sharp razor out, and trimming scissors. Angela wasn’t sure if he was cutting Spencer’s hair, or trimming a hedge outside their home. Surrounding her was the soft scent of chamomile lingering from the tea between her fingers, and there was something else in the air. Something sweet and pungent, Angela recognized the smell.

Lavender.

The old woman’s husband hummed while he fixed Spencer’s hair, his experienced hands working with gentle care, “You have great hair young man, it is wild like the wind. I have a good feeling it matches your energy.”

“You’d be right,” Spencer chuckled.

Angela rolled her eyes playfully, taking deep sips out of her tea. It was nothing like the dirt and water they had at home. “Angela, dear, come sit on this stool.”

The old woman pulled up a stool next to Spencer, she had a soft crushed velvet bag in her hand that she set down on the table next to her. Spencer lifted his eyebrows at Angela, a kind of “get a load of this” expression.

Angela placed herself on the wooden stool, and put her trust into whatever vision the woman had for her.

“So, humor us old people, tell us about yourselves.”

Angela was the first to speak, “well, you already know now, but I’m Angela, and this is my twin brother Spencer. We live a few streets down, at the very edge of the village. We’re the beat down shack with the bakery out front..”

The old man stopped and smiled, “Ahh yes, I heard you make the best bread. Such a shame what happened to your parents, my heart goes out to you both.”

Angela gave a tight lipped smile back, “..yes, they died only a couple of years ago. Too sick to carry on.”

The woman brushed through Angela’s mid-length hair, carefully combing through each strand. Angela started again, “..now we kind of just go about our days, struggling to get by. I hope to one day apprentice under someone who actually knows what they are doing. Maybe one day work for the Kings.” Angela’s cheeks flushed as the last statement left her lips, usually that fantasy stays between her and the endless moments alone in the bakery.

“That is a nice dream. I have faith in you, what about you, dear?” The old woman put her gaze on Spencer, who was now feeling his freshly trimmed beard, and running a hand through his hair. Accidentally messing up what the old man worked on. He blushed, but the old man started again, not giving Spencer any grief.

“I plan to be the best soldier this Kingdom has ever seen.” Spencer responded confidently.

The old man nodded, “We will be there cheering you on good sir.”

Angela leaned into the woman’s touch, pretending the hands braiding her hair belonged to her mother. The woman’s fingers were deft, weaving delicate loose braids into Angela’s brown wavy hair, an intricate half-up style, and as she worked she put tiny jasmine blossoms into each strand, and finally secured it with a soft lilac purple ribbon to tie it up.

Spencer moved in front of her, admiring his sister while the old woman added some lavender drops into her hair, “it helps make it shine.”

She motioned for Spencer to tilt his head forward so she could do the same for him, “this will help with the frizz.”

The twins stood up next to each other, and the old man handed them a small handheld mirror for them to look into. “You look presentable, very clean and polished. I say, you look fit to be a Prince and Princess. Now, go enjoy your night, if you two ever need anything let us know. Don’t ever feel like you have to go without.” He placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, the woman moved to give Angela a comforting hug.

Angela savored every second of the embrace, “I cannot thank you enough for this, please let us pay you in some way.”

The old woman considered and responded, “How about you and your brother come by in a couple of days with some cookies, and then you can tell us all about how tonight went. How does that sound?”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Now go on, the Royal Family will be here any second.”

The twins gave one last hug to their new friends, and together they walked through the small cottage and out the store they originally came from. Angela could tell something was on Spencer’s mind, and before they made it out the door of the shop, she turned to him, concern etched into her features. “Spence, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just a little nervous. I’m not used to being fancy, and now I accidentally got myself involved with a Prince or something..I don’t know.” He tugged at the soft fabric of his new outfit, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Angela hesitated for a moment, trying to place herself in his shoes. “Honestly, I can’t even imagine what is going through your head right now. But, you know I am always here for you, and if you feel yourself getting anxious we can always cut the night early and go back home. No judgement. This festival lasts a week so it’s not really like we’d be missing anything.”

“Thanks sis.”

“Anytime.”

~
The village underneath the Smosh Kingdom waited in anticipation for the arrival of the Royal Family, everyone held their breath as they tried to make everything look as nice as possible to impress their Kings. The sun finally dipped below the hills surrounding the area, the cobblestones streets swept clean, lined with roses, marigolds, and blue cornflowers. Each path is a vibrant rainbow to be walked upon.

Each door and window in every building burst with lilacs, lavender, and ivy, spilling over balconies and rooftops. Paper lanterns in soft pastels swung overhead, swaying in the gentle evening breeze. Soft music played in the air, a melodic flute and violin could be heard, excitement simmered within the crowds, children ran around with small flowers painted on their faces. Vendors lined the streets with pastries, preserves, fine clay pots and garlands ready to hand out to the Royals as they walked by.

Near the central fountain in the center of the square, tiny wax candles and bouquets of flowers lay on the ground, small scrolls of handwritten letters next to them, waiting to be read by the Kings and their children. Everyone was dressed in the finest clothes they had, fresh plucked flowers in almost every woman and small girl's hair, and a tiny flower behind each man and boy’s ear.

Angela and Spencer were intoxicated with excitement, and as the Kingdom Bell rang, announcing the arrival of the Royals, they eagerly took their spot behind a soft brown rope, guarding the path the family would eventually walk down.

A hush fell over the mass crowd, even the smallest children could feel the weight of something important.

Something Royal.

In this breathless moment, Angela looked up at stars above her, hoping her parents were looking down at their children, and she hoped they would be proud. She tucked a loose strand of her wavy hair behind her ear, a small blossom falling to the ground below. As she reached down to grab it the air shifted around her, and making their way around the corner in their carriage, was King Ian and King Anthony, their two sons, and precious daughter behind them.

Everyone around her erupted into a roar of “Welcomes! And Hellos!” Children threw out flower necklaces, and about thirty feet away from where the twins stood, the family got out of the carriage and started walking the rainbow flower path. Shaking hands and kissing babies so to speak.

In front of them was General Damien and his Swordsman Chanse, leading them and ensuring their safety. Angela could have never dreamed of anyone wanting to cause harm to them, but you could never be too safe. The Kings were dressed in ceremonial black, a stark contrast to the flowers that surrounded them; they had long-tailored coats made of black velvet that shadowed them. If you were lucky enough to get close you could see their black armor was carved in obsidian, a pattern of ivy, lavender and thorns etched into every space.

King Anthony stood solemn, but his smile was breath-taking. A black-sash crossed his chest and an onyx colored brooch in the shape of a raven pinned to it. The symbol of wisdom, mourning, and protection. His cuffs were tied together with jet-black buttons, his gloves the color of midnight.

Close behind was King Ian, who wore a looser-cut black jacket with a high-collared cape that flowed behind him like liquid shadows. His hair was slicked back, a matching black sash across his chest, but instead of the raven there was a medal. An achievement from when he fought in bloody battles, helping lead the village to where they are now, peace and harmony surrounding them. He held everything together during the darkest of times.

The two sons trailed behind their fathers, elegant and poised.

Prince Tommy, the oldest boy but not the oldest child, wore a high-necked tunic made of deep black silk embroidered with thorns and stars. His hair was swept back like King Ian’s, but unlike his father’s and sister’s dark hair, his was almost blinding white, which accentuated the rose covered in thorns around his ear. His boots shined, and he was rigid with practiced grace.

Prince Shayne, the youngest son was a lot looser than his brother, he was easy-going and charmed everyone in sight. He had a welcoming aura that surrounded him, a romantic silhouette. He was wearing a soft black shirt, and unlike his brother his shirt was short-sleeved, his collar open just enough to reveal the necklace of ivy he was wearing. His blue eyes scanned the crowd, eager to meet everyone he could, curiosity taking over him. A smile never leaving his face.

Angela felt Spencer shift beside her, and she moved to let him stand closer to the rope, helping him stand out in the crowd. Angela was very happy to see the Royal men, but she was dying to set her eyes on Princess Amanda. She wanted more than anything to see what she was wearing, what her hair looked like, what being in her presence felt like.

As she watched the Kings and Princes make their way through the crowd, she knew the Princess was close when another roar of celebration exited the crowd’s mouths, and everyone fought for closer looks. Spencer pulled her in tight, making sure she got a spot close to the rope before the crowd shoved their way in.

Finally, behind her two brothers, came Princess Amanda. She moved through the crowd with quiet command, holding her title as the first heiress to the throne. Her gown trailed behind her, moving across the petal-strewn cobblestone. Her massive dress was a deep, dark purple, the color of violets and twilight sunsets, the paper lanterns caught streams of light that casted a subtle sheen of satin. The corset of her dress hugged her, silver black embroidery laced the dress, her sleeves were tight on her wrists.

Angela thought to herself that although the dress was beautiful, it most definitely did not look comfortable.

Princess Amanda’s hair was glossy, thick black waves hung loose around her shoulders, traveling down to the center of her back. It was half pinned back, with real lavender tucked into it. Angela looked down at the small Jasmine blossom in her hand.

Her skin was warm and soft, she could tell that the Princess was sun-kissed from birth, her dark brown eyes held the weight of someone who has been trained their whole life to see everything, but reveal nothing. Angela followed her gaze as the Princess scanned the crowd. The Princess subconsciously rubbed the crystal lavender bracelet dangling from her wrist.

As she looked around the crowd waving to everyone, every once in a while joining her brothers to talk to some of the village people, she stopped. Her eyes locked with another young girl dressed in purple, a girl with flour under her fingernails, smelling of cinnamon, and jasmine in her hair.

At that moment the young Princess smiled. Not the fake practiced one she had been taught to do on instinct, not a goofy one like her brother’s, but a real, genuine smile.

Angela stood stunned, Spencer saying something in her ear about how amazing Prince Tommy looked, hardly noticing the moment between his twin sister and the Princess.

With the crowd and village surrounding them in laughter and excitement, the Princess kept still for a moment longer. Memorizing every detail of the young girl and who she guessed was her brother beside her. One of her father’s slid an arm around her waist, guiding her forward. She gave a small wave to Angela, and kept moving.

“Spencer…”

“Angela. Did the Princess just wave at you?”

“I…I think so?”

“That is awesome! Maybe getting into the Castle is going to be a lot easier than we thought.”

“Yeah..yeah..” Angela trailed off as she made her way through the people standing around her, trying to keep up with Princess Amanda. Spencer was right behind her, this time being the one to apologize for the other sibling’s behavior.

Angela’s heart pounded as she recalled the small moment between her and the Princess, the Princess who looked like she was carved out of a Violet, out of the Stars, and the Night Sky. She eventually ran into a solid brick wall of the Blacksmith, his body almost impenetrable. Before Spencer could turn her away, she made one last desperate attempt to look at the Princess, and by some grace of whatever higher power was out there, the Princess turned around, and looked back into Angela’s eyes.