The morrow arrived far too quickly.
I lay in bed, eyes facing the ceiling, fully prepared and ready for this important and special occasion. It was an honour that the King and Queen decided to celebrate their anniversary with a Royal Tour, but the idea of playing and performing in front of such distinguished guests, the likes of which I had only heard of by names and tales, frightened me to my core.
I had never been the sort that scares easily; with the family business, shyness was not exactly a welcome skill, and through the years of travelling with my brothers and playing all over the kingdom, meeting all kinds of people, I half-thought that shyness had been knocked unconscious or, indeed, out of me.
It seems I was wrong, although I do believe it to be quite normal to fear such situations as this, and wouldn't fault anyone who trembled at the thought of facing the King.
My mother's voice takes me from my pondering state, and my body makes its way downstairs much to my brain's chagrin. The good and smart woman she is, of course, Aurelia senses my fear from a mile away. "Why, my child, why do you seem so pale? Don't tell me it's all those nerves making their way back into your body, after all these years?"
"Pardon me, mother, but you sure cannot fault me for trembling over the thought of meeting the royal family. I can't help the feeling."
"If your father was around, he would ask if you've prayed on it yet, but as I know you better, I'll simply remind you that it'll go away. They are just people, the king and queen, much like you and me. They are flawed and human, although they demonstrate it much more than the late queen ever did."
I fail to control my urge to laugh, and a chuckle escapes my lips. "You've always been so severe on them."
"And I shall be even more severe if things keep going the way they are. That woman, especially, angers me. Her people are going hungry, and all she can think of doing is buying new dresses." She refers to, as per usual, the Queen, with her lavish gowns and extravagant parties, the tales of which have reached all Sectors, albeit I myself must've heard at least ten different versions of them, each more or less embellished than the other, but all scandalous.
"You really believe all those things? I don't know, mother, the boys and I have seen a lot of poor and hungry people throughout the sectors, of course, but most still blame the poor crops and bad weather for their lack of prosperity." I explain.
"I do believe them, yes. How could I not? When every week I am called to the aid of some poor soul without enough food to put in their children's bellies? All the while Queen Zinnia runs around in dresses that could feed five families for a year!" She says, disapprovingly, the wrinkles between her eyebrows beginning to form.
"I just think-" I begin.
"No, enough of this nonsensical talk. You don't know what it was like when Queen Gisella still lived, how prosperous our lives were, but I digress. Come, now, we must leave. Your brothers won't wait forever and there is still much work to do at our little stall." She rushes me out of the door with the brute kindness only a mother is capable of, and we join my brothers, Gregory and Hyde, outside, as they finish setting up the wooden boxes on the horse and buggy, preparing to leave.
"What took you so long? The heir won't be in attendance, you know, there's no need to try and make yourself look pretty." Hyde joked, his olive green eyes sparkling with lighthearted humour.
"I'll have you know your sister is already beautiful, Hyde." Mother shoots back, lightly tapping her youngest son on the shoulder in a joking manner.
"If you say so, nothing like a mother's eyes, I suppose."
I choose to simply roll my eyes and forgive the insult, as Hyde places his hand out to help me get on the buggy. "Now why on earth would I bother to make myself all prim and proper for the heir to the throne, explain it to me?"
"They say he's devilishly handsome." Chimes in Gregory.
"They also say he's promised to an Asturian princess." I retort.
"Engagements can be called off; and besides, I'm sure you are beautiful enough to tempt him to do so, sister." Gregory takes a second to look back at me and winks, before his eyes return to the road. "We'd be able to charge triple admission for every performance if we had the crown princess, or the prince's lover, in our family."
"Of course even your jokes return to money-making." I shake my head. "And hush, I'd never be anyone's lover, regardless of their social status."
"That's comforting to hear." Mother comments. "But enough with this royal family talk, let us discuss something more cheerful and positive than the idea of losing your sister to that strange boy."
With that comment, the three of us exchange looks, expecting mother to go on a rant about her displeasure and chastising of the royal family, but she keeps quiet, genuinely seeming to expect a change of subject.
Not before Gregory interjects, though. "You are aware of where we're going, mother? All anyone's going to be talking about today, and for god knows how many more weeks, is the royal family and their shananigans."
"That is precisely why I believe we should talk of more pleasant things, for I know my ears will ache with all the royal talk I'll undoubtedly have to endure in the coming month or so." Mother disapprovingly shakes her head.
"'In the coming month or so', is being awfully optimistic, mother. Thankfully we will not be here to listen to all the gossip, or the inevitable complaining that will come with it." Gregory states with underlying joy. "What is it? Six more days?"
I nod. "Precisely. Our last week of rest."
The journey to the fair is mostly spent listening to mother list off all the preparations we are yet to get to, which aren't many, then slowly dissect in the smallest of details why the royal family chose a tour of all things to celebrate such a personal occasion, and what that might mean for their personal image and standing in the court of public opinion.
Truly, I do believe she continues her distaste for the family much more out of habit, and loyalty to the former ruler, than of genuine dislike. She often speaks of her life before the coronation, and her childhood memories are heavily associated with the praise her own parents used to dish out about the queen, before they both died tragically. Certainly, that must've influenced her ideas and statements almost as much as her work with the more vulnerable families of our Sector.
As for the boys and I, and even somewhat for my father, we don't really think about the family unless reminded of them. Every now and then, while travelling, we encounter a monument or building honouring a current or former member of the family, which brings to our attention their existence, but with the tiring business of the mornings and chaotic business of the evenings, they soon fade into obscurity in the box of important things my brain must remember, kicked out by things like musical arrangements, lovely sunsets to sketch and paint, and new material that must be bought.
Unless, of course, someone on the road wishes to share some new fantastical tale about the Oceana Dynasty, then we must sit, sip and listen.
The sun is still waking up by the time we get to the fair. According to the boys, we have exactly five hours until the whole thing kicks off, and around seven until we're graced by the presence of the family, by which time we will humbly move onto the stage and attempt to honour our prestigious guests.
Not even one hour has gone by, however, when Daisy, dressed in her best sky blue silk, the traditional colour of the Crown of Oceana, makes her way to our tent once more, watching curiously as I put up my latest work for exposition.
"I always wonder how you have so much time to dedicate to your painting while on the road, certainly with the band and taking care of your brothers, it must be quite difficult to have some free personal time." She comments.
"I wouldn't say exactly that I must 'take care' of my brothers, they are grown enough to care for themselves, for the most part. And usually, I use every bit of free time I have to pick up a brush, it's what makes me relax, in a way. Especially these few weeks that we've been preparing for the royal visit. If it wasn't for my sketchbook and watercolours, I would've gone insane. I believe we all need something like that in our lives." I answer, looking up at her pale blonde locks tied neatly with a pale blue ribbon, her hair shining due to the early morning sun bringing golden specks of light through her parasol.
"I suppose studying has always kept me too busy to think of such things, though I hope to someday be able to dedicate myself to caring for a family of my own." She shoots back, closing the parasol to sit next to me in a foldable brown chair.
Although I nod, I cannot help to think of how unnatural and utterly rehearsed Daisy's answer seems, and how she might only be sharing it with me in the hopes that I will pass on her dreams onto my eldest brother in confidence.
Having known Daisy all my life, there has seldom been a day where I haven't wondered whether she is truly happy. Of course, she appears happy. She is kind, and dedicated to be so to every creature around her, not to mention incredibly smart and curious, talents which are wasted on a governess only concerned with teaching her etiquette and husband-hunting, things she seems little interested in although very good at, and content to participate in as she understands it will make her family happy; but is she fulfilled? Is this the life she's always dreamed of?
Even in my darkest days, as I sometimes dread waking up in a different city every night, uncertain of how long this career might last, unable to truly know and love and connect to the people around me, I am still able to feel grateful that my life is lived for myself, and that no net ensnares me, no anchor holds me still and I have no dreams to live up to but my own.
Daisy and I chat for another hour or so, as I finish organising the family tent and over analysing every piece I have for sale. The crown jewel of the day being the royal painting, having been drafted over two weeks through the accounts of several different people I met on the road, as well as some citizens of D and my parents, who witnessed and are able to remember a lot of details from the royal wedding.
With all the different descriptions and depictions that I compiled, the result was a burst of colour on canvas of two figures dancing together in a dream-like state, in the middle of a heavily decorated ballroom. The man, in his 20s, sports his golden mane in a ponytail, tied by a blue ribbon; while his waltz partner, a woman of the same age, leaves her long golden curls loose to sway as her partner spins her around the empty crystal ballroom.
Several liberties have been taken, of course. The main one being the age of the royal couple, but their outfits, although embellished, were inspired by those of my own parents, who have yet to see the painting.
It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I have ever created.
After leaving some polite compliments and purchasing one of my pieces, thus inaugurating the shop, Daisy excuses herself and, accompanied by her walking partner, her lady's maid, goes to take a turn around the festival grounds.
As the hours pass and the other workers start setting up their goods, the grounds are inundated with people eager to get a look at the royal family, those who just want to see the festivities, and others looking to find a good deal on food, drinks and other consumables. Meanwhile, because she refused to be left out of it, Sybil arrives to offer her help, so we place her in a safe position, near me and my paintings and behind the personal care station, where we sell the lovely soaps and creams mother makes artisanally. I attempt to keep a keen eye on her, although I'm sure with her maths skills and abilities of persuasion she'd be able to sell ice in the winter.
While closing a couple of sales on small pieces, some well-developed sketches and a still life, everyone's attention is suddenly taken by the earth-bending sound of horns being blown, the power of which seems to shake the ground beneath my feet and pull all customers away from us, as a crowd of people gather to catch a glimpse of our most distinguished guests.
Guards in blue and silver armour, sporting pale blue capes and helmets, control the populace to form a well-behaved wall around the red carpet, and the sound of their entrance music echoes louder and louder inside my skull, making its way down my throat like a lump of poorly chewed food and settling in my chest, where it seems to shock my heart into arrhythmia and bring uncommon sweat to the palms of my hands.
"I think you'll be called backstage soon, right, Linnie?" Sybil comments, organising the leftover products that've been hastily dropped by customers eager to catch a glimpse of the royal family. "Aren't you excited?"
"That's definitely a word you could use." I admit, managing my anxiety by fidgeting with the pencil in my hands, the sudden realisation that I've nowhere to run to hitting me like a ton of bricks. "You can go join the crowd if you'd like, Sybbie. I'll keep guard here, I'm sure your friends are all crammed as close to the action as possible."
Sybil's grey eyes sparkle like diamonds as she squeaks out an excited 'thank you!' and quickly abandons her booth to join the ever-growing crowd.
After carefully, and slowly, placing everything back in order, I waste a few more precious moments staring up at the special box set up facing the stage for the royal couple, where sat the two most important people in all of Celestia; and, giving meaning to the Kingdom's name, they truly did seem to shine like celestial beings, so far removed from us mere mortals, with their lovely golden locks and pale skin. It seemed almost silly, I thought, that a daughter of artists should be deemed important enough to entertain the angels.
I'm startled out of my delusions by a hand carefully placed on my shoulder. There, to my right, stands my brother Hyde, just as I needed him most. "I already know." I say, taking a deep breath before following him backstage to start preparing for our set, which is supposed to close the, supposedly very short, selection of artists who shall entertain their royal highnesses today.
Due to the fact that the Olivette's have performed all over the Sectors, with one or two exceptions, the mayor and his chamber, the organisers of this prestigious event, thought it would be beneficial to place us as the closing number, undoubtedly hoping one or two royal guards, or perhaps one of the royal advisors who are entrusted with travelling with their majesties, would have heard a thing or two about our family band and would perhaps be kind enough to mention to the King and Queen that the band known about all over the Kingdom is Dravia's very own.