What Is Done

Chapter 25 - Crescendo

Prince Laverne sat at the base of the door outside the music room in the Castle of Glass. It had been a leisurely day. He'd done things at his own pace. His lessons with Valka were over for the day, he'd been in the courtyard shooting arrows for a while, and had afternoon tea with Moria. Life had been going smoothly. He found out he was good at many, many things. Perfect, even. He had hoped this good, calm consistency would last throughout his life.

On the other side of the large twin doors was the sound of Valka playing his violin, something he'd mastered as a child and brought him peace when nothing else would. The Castle of Glass' walls were mostly soundproof, the doors a little less so. King Valka played a tune that portrayed great sadness. Something he'd written himself. Something that could reflect himself.

Laverne knew he was talented with many instruments. He closed his eyes when listening to the music his father wrote in his free time. He had shooed the guards so he could be alone with the sound of music. Valka rarely played in front of people, a few times for his wife. Oftentimes, he and his best friend, Lord Elbereth, wrote songs together. Personally, Valka didn't think he was good enough but to anyone in the vicinity, he sounded like a professional. That night, Laverne would dream of nothing but the sound the violin made in his father's hands. The sound of crescendos and the diminuendos created images in his head that he'd see later.

Prince Laverne let out a deep sigh as he visualized a mental image for the song. His back was suddenly lying flat on the ground instead of backing up to the door. Laverne slowly opened both his eyes, only to see his father standing over him, with a confused expression.

"I can hear you breathing," he grinned as if he weren't mad. Laverne couldn't help but smile back. To Valka, Laverne had grown up a lot in the past few years. He was fifteen, and beginning to look more like Valka everyday. In the structure of his cheekbones and his stature was evidence that Valka was indeed his father. 

"I thought Sellion was teaching you how to conceal your breathing so you're silent."

Laverne pushed himself into a sitting position to face Valka. "I think I am getting better at it." He stayed in a crisscross position, his hands grabbing at his ankles between his legs. "Sellion is...bad at teaching...so it is hard for me to get the hang of anything."

Valka questioned, "Is that so?" as he walked back into the music room with his transparent violin that looked like it was made of glass. It was a beautiful thing. Laverne got up and followed. "Does he still scare you?"

"Not as much as he did when I was small," Laverne skipped over to Valka, "though I do think he is definitely still...unsettling to be around."

Valka chuckled in response, thinking of how Sellion had been as a child. He wasn't any less manipulative and cruel these days. He wondered if Laverne would have feared Sellion less if he knew his true identity. Perhaps the prince would've feared him more.

Valka put his violin back in the box he kept it in, along with the bow. The room around them held many instruments. The most noticeable thing was a grand piano in the center of the room. In the corner, by the window was a harp. Laverne had known Valka as the only man who could ever play such an instrument skillfully. He had skinny fingers upon witnessing him play an instrument designed for those with delicate fingers.

Laverne stared at the open violin case as Valka fiddled with something else in the room. Valka could see him out of the corners of his eyes. "Please don't touch it." He fretted that Laverne would touch and blemish it. He'd been careful of his own use with it over the years. Following every use, he'd wash the oil from his hands off its smooth surface.

He heeded his father's words. "It is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

Valka sauntered back over to his son, wiping his hands on a rag. "I bought it with my allowance when I was twelve." It had been a couple centuries since King Valka was that age. He'd taken good care of his most treasured belongings.