Abatina
Abatina appears to be an antique or misunderstood reference for a flower that has not been identified. It represents fickleness.
❀
Regulus didn't know why had he decided to show James his gardens. He spent a lot of time there because they were given to him by his uncle. They approached them at an incredibly fast pace to avoid being caught. James' music inspired him, even though he heard it for the first time in his life, he decided to show him something that could give him an idea for the title of the song.
They headed towards the back door, which was located in the old part of the palace.
"I’ve never been here, and I thought I saw the whole castle.”
"No one comes here. I forbade it," James frowned. He did not expect such a response from the Prince.
"I'd love to know why, but I don't feel it's appropriate to ask," he paused, "Why did you forbade coming here?"
If someone else had asked him this question, Regulus would certainly tell this person to get out of his sight. However, it was James who asked, he did not know why, but he could not get upset with him.
"It brings back memories," he whispered with a thoughtful expression on his porcelain face.
The pianist didn’t say anything else, just followed him in silence, knowing that digging into the topic would be a bad idea. They reached a little lower, and thus narrower than in the music room, the door, which moments later was pushed by Duke showing the darkness on their other side. Regulus was the first to cross their threshold and, with a hand gesture, he asked James to follow him.
After walking a few meters, bushes of various types of flowers were shown to their eyes, illuminated only by slight moonlight. James has never encountered such an incredible view. That was the first time he saw so many multiple plants in one place. He had to admit, it was very impressive. He began to spin around his axis, his eyes getting caught with more and more diverse flowers. The image began to blur from the speed of rotation, and a huge smile appeared on his face. Regulus watched him with a barely noticeable fond smile on his face. He didn't expect anyone to react to his gardens this way.
"No one has ever shown me anything like this," James exhaled, feeling a little dizzy.
"Do you like it?" Regulus asked, trying to mask the desperate hope in his voice.
"Do I like it?! It's the most beautiful place I've ever been to!" exclaimed enthusiastically the taller boy, turning around his axis once again.
Regulus blushed at his words. For the first time in a long time, he felt appreciated. He couldn't describe how happy James made him with his reaction to the gardens. His companion's smile gave him confidence and he decided to show him around his secret place.
"Do you want to move on? I can tell you a little about each of those plants" he said as he started rocking slightly on his heels.
"Do you know the names of all those flowers?"
"Names and their meanings, flowers have been my passion since I remember," he said with much less confidence.
"It's amazing. I don't know anyone who has such a passion."
"Don't you think it's too…feminine for a man?" James only frowned in response.
"There is no such thing as 'too feminine'.”
The prince felt warmth on his face as a chill went down his spine.
"Okay, hold onto me and try not to get lost, the roads here are a little convoluted," Regulus said, and James began to follow him unopposed along uneven stone paths. The stone paths were unimaginably cold. The chill hurt Regulus’ bare feet, but he didn't seem to pay too much mind to it, too drawn into sharing his knowledge about the symbolism of a mimosa.
The boy stared at him with his glowing eyes as if he was the most exquisite flower in the whole garden. There was a slight smile on his face as he listened with interest to Regulus’ unusually low but at the same time charming and melodic voice.
At one point Regulus stopped talking when his eyes got stuck on a plant with yellow flowers. It was not as beautiful as the rest, but it was not difficult to see that it has some meaning for the curly-haired boy.
"What is this?" James exuded, trying not to straddle the boy with the sudden question.
"Abatina," Regulus replied, trying to sound indifferent, but the expression of his face betrayed him.
"What does it represent?"
"Fickleness," he began, and his eyes no longer at James "it was my brother’s favourite flower. "
"He had a bad taste," James blurted out and he automatically wanted to give himself a slap on a forehead. To his surprise, a quiet chuckle left Regulus’ mouth at his comment causing James to smile in return.
"That's what we can agree on. It is not one of the most beautiful flowers."
❀
The night was coming to an end. Behind the windows you could see the brighter strings of light seething through the dark sky. Regulus and James strolled through the castle corridors without realising that the sun started to emerge behind the horizon among violets, oranges and reds. With each successive meter they conquered, their eyes began to clump. The sleepless night finally showing some consequences.
They got so absorbed in conversation that they overlooked the shadow emerging from the opposite lobby. Before they could realise the clock struck six in the morning. They didn’t stop giggling until James' face collied with The King’s chest.
"I'm really sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going," he recited with hasty pace, his face took on a frightened expression.
"Father.”
"Who is your new... friend, Regulus? " in his voice it was easy to detect mockery and superiority. His grey eyes, which showed nothing else but cold, scanned the other boy, he then shifted his gaze to his son.
"His name is James. He's the new pianist, he just told me about how he met one of very famous composers last summer.”
The older boy sent him a confused look and tried to force a smile so as not to undermine the testimony of the Prince. "Well, that's it. I stopped at the moment when Tchaikovsky and I went for a walk around his hometown, what an interesting man...”
The King seemed pleased with his statement. He said his goodbyes, explaining that he had a lot of things to do, and informed James that they would return to this conversation because he wanted to know all the details. After making sure that the King was out of the hearing distance, Regulus decided to speak.
"Tchaikovsky?! The guy died when you were about five years old!"
"What else was I supposed to say?! I didn’t expect my first meeting with your father to go this way!"
"You don't even know how happy I am that he knows nothing about music, otherwise you would be rotting in the dungeons by now," Regulus said, and with a sigh of relief he let out a slow breath. They exchanged a few more sentences and then decided to go to their chambers to get some sleep.
Regulus was almost at the entrance of his room when he was pulled by his shoulder. He collided with a wall almost knocking down the image from its surface. He hissed and grabbed himself in a pulsating place. He turned his eyelids down, and when he lifted them, his father's figure appeared.
"Then I didn't pay attention to it because I was busy interviewing our pianist, but now that he's not around would you be gracious to explain to me what you are wearing?!" he growled through clenched teeth, sending a hostile gaze to his son.
"I…uh couldn’t find anything else to wear…"
"You can't even form a sentence normally! What kind of man are you?! I expect you to change into something more presentable immediately. I don't want to see this…rag ever again. And now go, just looking at you makes me sick.”
The Prince lowered his head, pressed the door handle and closed the door to his chamber. He felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes, but he had no intention of letting them out. He looked down and, with a single jerk, took off his nightgown while ripping it in many places. Now, completely naked, he threw his robe into the corner of the room and let out a dry sob. He slid to the ground with his back pressed against the wooden and cool doors. He took a pair of uneven breaths, trying not to uncouth even more. After a while - he couldn’t tell if it was minutes or maybe even hours - his breathing eased out, so he decided to get up and get dressed.
His face took on a stone cold expression, behind which hundreds of emotions were hidden. He put on a white loose shirt and a new pair of dark brown pants as well as a pair of brand new boots and he walked up to the mirror. He combed through his dark curls and headed toward his old desk. He took parchment, pen and atrament. He sat in a chair and began to write down his thoughts - he did that when his feelings got too strong or too confusing, but in this case, he simply did not want to feel anything.