Once Upon A Spring Night

The Visitor

The dawn dwindled, welcoming the fine morn. Golden light gleamed through the open window, bringing new life and days ahead of spring. There was no dream as Primarosa slumbered. However, there was a bit of despair lifted once she opened her eyes and heard the sparrows greet her with their alluring tweets.

“Buenos dias!” She sang back at them, despite the small lingering somber she still felt.

The Christian princess looked again at her surroundings, confirming that the quarters were indeed intended for no border. By fair means, the colorful patterns that ornate the walls were the only life in such a dreary place.

“No water nor cloth for cleaning, at least.” She complained. “Oh, Dios mio, I am a yardbird!” Wailing defeatedly as she callously sat on the single chair. In despair, she watched the vibrant scene from the outside, hoping that perhaps in a minute or two, she could go home and forget what had happened—but that is all easier said than done, especially when the world you were born in deals with power, sovereignty, and conflict.

Hours later, the princess heard a faint knock on the door. She was second-guessing whether to answer it or not. But the knocking continued, forcing her to do the prior. As she acknowledged, she was astounded by the unlocking of the door and the unexpected visitor who burst into her quarters, unpacking goodies of pillows, a cover, and a dress that she wrapped in brown linen. Like a stone, Primarosa stood still, eyeing the female whom she deemed young—a little older than her sister Florinda. The young lady was lovely as well, noticing the gracefulness in her movements.

“Hola…” Deeply bewildered, Primarosa welcomed cutting the air of stillness that tried to envelop her.

The visitor turned to face her, revealing a sunny smile and familiar hazel eyes as she took off her satin veil. “Hola!” She greeted her back and added, “It is so nice to meet you!”

“Oh… Well, nice to meet you, too!” Primarosa curtsied regardless of feeling faltered.

“Ya ilahi! You are beautiful!” the young maiden squealed as she came nearer and softly squished her cheeks.

Primarosa could feel the crimson heat growing on her face, appreciating the young girl’s compliment. She beamed at her friendly visitor and shyly replied, “Gracias. You are so kind and seemed so approachable, señorita. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Primarosa.”

The young girl curtsied and introduced herself also, “I am Yasmeen. I am the crowned prince’s sister.”

“Forgive me… Your Highness!” The captive princess cordially bowed, realizing her mistake in greeting her fellow royale.

“No need to be formal. I know little details about you, princess.” The young princess Yasmeen informed. “Brother Arham told me about what had happened… and on behalf of my brothers, I am sorry.” A sincere tone made her eyes twinkle as she offered Primarosa her apologies. There was also a hint of regret for a misdeed she had not even done.

Primarosa understood her quite dearly. “There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. Though I must tell you that I did feel betrayed by Jor—I mean by your brother,” Forgetting Azlan’s real name, “But never fret, for I have nothing against you.” She then reassured her.

The Moor princess embraced her and thanked her for understanding. She returned the doting gesture and was suddenly moved to tears, for it reminded her of her little sisters. Tears began to flood her eyes, grasping the reality of the caged emotions she had kept inside.

Princess Yasmeen guided her to her bed and sat her down as she told her, “Oh, do not cry, Princess.” Comforting her while she brushed her hair. “If you need a friend, I am here. You know, I am also quite lonely behind these walls. My ommi is currently not here because she is on an excursion, and I cannot even talk to my brothers because of their duties! I am stuck with my tutors and their boring debates about religion, politics, and philosophy. I have no leisure, sadly.”

Indeed, there was loneliness in Yasmeen’s eyes when Primarosa looked at her. She understood such feelings, notably that Florinda and Margarita were also experiencing the same whirlwind of emotions. She, too, had once been an adventurous child who wanted to see more of the world, not just through books and discussions with her tutors, but more so, to experience the outside world itself. She patted the young lady’s shoulder and opened up to her tales of her yore childhood. Yasmeen was all ears to her.

The two princesses chatted away, ignoring the minutes that rolled by. They have found an immediate fondness in each other: sharing both of their inner thoughts, what interests they had, and even to the point when Primarosa insisted on calling her ‘hermana’; moreover, sharing with Yasmeen her unwanted betrothal to Duke Gervasio.

“You are going to marry someone you do not even like?” Yasmeen exclaimed. Protesting such a tradition of transactional marriage. “It may have worked civilizations ago but I don’t think so this time! Can we not marry someone we love?”

“One can only hope.” Her tone changed to a sudden defeat as she added, “But if it is for the better, perhaps, I can carry my favor in calling to the saints to help me find love for the man papa intended for me.”

Yasmeen shrugged and childishly collapsed on the bed. “I hope too that my brother will hand me to someone pleasing.” Her smile turned sour looking into that consideration. But a girly she was, she demurred in small cries, covering herself with the pillow she brought.

Out of the blue, not even a knock nor some fair salutation, Azlan entered the room with a surprised look once he saw his sister.

“He, he… Good morning, brother.” Yasmeen uttered nervously. “What brings you here?”

The crowned prince raised his brow and found her question ludicrous. He walked towards the bed, where the two ladies slouched. And in an imposing tone, he pointed at his sister, “Should I be asking you that question? You do know well that one of my duties is to inspect my imprisoned enemies.”

“With a vase of roses?” She suspiciously and naively asked him, seeing that distinct object folded in his arms that dragged her attention.

Azlan was suddenly drained of his color, not wanting to be asked more questions about it. He knew that his sister was quite domineering—mostly when she suspected something odd. He had no plausible excuse for it. Yet, he claimed to them that the flowers were for decoration. “This is just for ornamental purposes. Here, take this!” He awkwardly ordered Primarosa.

But the caged princess was no fool…

She accepted the ‘gift’ but never let her wonder, with his unforeseen hospitality, go with the wind. She graciously thanked him while placing the vase on top of the table. Yasmeen slyly looked into the roses and counted them quietly.

Looking back at her captor, trying her best not to get enthralled again by his handsome features, she asked him coolly, “Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness?”

Charming, he thought, but he then quickly fastened himself to his purpose and answered sternly, “Well, I am here because I want to ask you again—”

“For many times, in a hundred or more, I do not know anything, Your Highness!” Primarosa snapped. “You will get bored of hearing me the same answer of ‘no’… No, no, and no! Please, let us not waste more time on this.”

“As the future king of this kingdom, I am willing to do anything to protect it—to preserve my forefather’s tradition and honor. It is for the kingdom I vow to do the best I can to bring dominance.” The tone in his voice rose in timbre. “Reminding you again of the punishment for one’s false tongue.”

“No need to remind me, señor.” Primarosa eyed him closely. “I perfectly remember that threat. Why would I forget about it when the prince himself was breaking their laws by toying on a naïve girl’s mind?” Their distance was nearly close when both matched each other’s pride and stubbornness.

“Twenty-four lovely roses,” Yasmeen noted. “Twenty-four… roses… For twenty-four hours, some special someone has been lingering in someone’s thoughts. Why are you thinking of Princess Primarosa, brother?” Her innocent inquiry caught Azlan off-guard.

There was a moment of still and odd silence that befell the room. The prince could not tell whether to burst into stupid defenses or drag his sister by the ear with her snooping. Oh, how his heat was rising to his head while trying to be in full composure. “There is no meaning to it, Yasmeen!” He reasoned. The aura became a cumbersome feel, a hulky to be exact, and to avoid more nagging from his sister, the prince grabbed her and pushed her outside the door, leaving a puzzled Primarosa who was standing stiff and completely wide-eyed. “I will be coming back this afternoon. Don’t ever think that I am done with you.” He added as he closed and locked the door from the outside.

In a whisper, he reprimanded his sister for stealing the key to Primarosa’s room. He was not taking it very lightly as he told her, “I will send guards to look out for you, Yasmeen. Primarosa is our enemy. Remember the sin of her father.”

“And to whom you say it is also her burden to carry? Oh, brother, please let me visit her! She is a kind lady. She is now my friend! I do not understand why you have such a philosophy of that kind. I am sorry if I stole the key, but can you not see how one could not be fascinated with her?” The young princess then began to happily recall her wonder from hours before, “I saw her peep out of the window, and I got curious. I thought she was some phantom, but when I asked Arham, he told me everything.”

Azlan had finally connected the dots, “I see now where you have stolen the key to the lock.”

Yasmeen replied with a sham smile while both of them made their way to the main corridors of the castle.

Once she realized she was all alone again, Primarosa growled as she slumped on the bed and buried her face in a pillow. Outrage succumbed to her soul as she remembered his face and his words. “Ugh! Honor this, punishment that—I want a way out!” She screeched. Tossing and turning, she could not find peace or comfort as his voice resonated in her mind. She went on tossing and turning, but as she looked at the roses, she became at ease—in complete silence. She remembered her grandmama’s garden, her sisters, and as well as her mama and papa, who would be worried by now. Anger turned to sorrow once again. “Well, God bless him, for at least he found interest in flowers.” She sighed.