[Chapter Nineteen]

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(Brenton Thwaites)

CEPOS'S POV:

A knock came at my door. Who could it be? I got up from my desk and opened it. I was shocked to see the princess standing at my door.

"Hi there!" I blurted out.

"Hi Cepos," she says sweetly.

"Oh! Come in."

"Are you sure? I don't want to interrupt anything."

"No no, not busy. Come come," I insist. She had come all the way here, how could I dismiss her? Not that I wanted to.

She asked me about my day and all. Then she asked what I did in this room. Of course I still had my duties as prince, but those things are boring. So I showed her something else. Something that I do love, and something that I don't think is boring.

She looked astonished as she picked up a drawing. In her hands is a drawing, of her. Out of those drawings, she had picked the one sketch that I wanted to hide.

I had drawn it after I first met her. It was a simple sketch of her face and I didn't want her to be scared by it, so I tried making up a lame excuse.

"Um, that-" My voice was shaky, and I was glad when she had interrupted.

"You drew this!" She says excitedly. I nod slowly. I was sure she'd yell out that I was a creep. "That's amazing! Do you like to draw!?" I nod again, more out of embarrassment. "You're amazing. I for one, can't draw for my life." I chuckle again. How can someone be so ecstatic about something one can't do?

She asked me how I came across art. I did my best to tell her about my mother, but I just didn't know enough English words.

My mother is an amazing artist. Most of all, she loved painting sceneries. She couldn't go beyond the castle walls very often because of her health. So she taught me how to draw in her spare time.

It came naturally for me. It was like the paintbrush fit right in my hand. I had come accustomed to just drawing out of content. Father wasn't much of a fan of me drawing, but he didn't mind either. If it was something mother liked to do, he did too. I do miss seeing them share their 'secret kisses' and their small laughter together.

So I was somewhat frustrated when I couldn't just tell her about everything. "Fun, happy, easy." That was the best I could do. I wish I could convey my feelings about art to her, but, it's a bit difficult.

"Is something wrong?" She asks worriedly.

"No words. Can't, can't...explain with words, hard," Once again, I'm stumped with my words. I search for more words but they just aren't enough.

"You don't always have to use your words Cepos," she says.

It hit me. Like a bullet to the brain.

Don't use my words.

That's okay too. Art is formed from the beauty in the world. It doesn't use words, but lines and colors. That's right.

Sometimes, words aren't enough, and that's okay.

I can tell her without words.

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