In a faraway land of Silesia, peasants, nobilities, and the poor were celebrating the most exciting news of the kingdom. Their queen, Desorea, was pregnant with a baby prince. Many wailed, many laughed, and many…drank.
In the evening, the entire palace heard a baby crying. Little Hendrick was born.
Desorea and her fair king, Nathaniel, were in their bedchamber, with their sweet infant prince. Desorea was in bed, gently cradling him in her arms. His hands were only the size of the middle of her hand. His tiny fingers grasped onto her ring finger.
“My son…” she cooed, “Someday you’ll be able to rule the kingdom. The Heavens have granted you many blessings as you were in my womb. And they will grace you with more as you grow.”
“Fair Desorea,” said Nathaniel, “Our son will be handsome. Don’t you think the girls will be ever so attracted?”
“I know you have. It’s only right if he believes in love as well as we all do.”
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Hendrick grew into a handsome young man. He was tall, and handsome, his face was chiseled and well-shaped. His hair was a dark-brunette, soft, and wavy. And with a bright smile, he was like no other in the palace. He was blessed with a magic touch, turning any sour moon into a sunny one.
He was a sensitive soul, who could see the beauty in everything, and he seemed to have an innate understanding of the needs and desires of others.
He was also a man of many talents and interests. He was a skilled horseman, a talented swordsman, and an avid reader of history and literature. But…he loved playing his violin the most. His beautiful and emotional violin was a source of great joy and pleasure for him and those who had the privilege of hearing him play.
His playing would even bring the most stoic of hearts to tears as well as gentle souls. He had an affinity for music and his playing reflected that, filled with emotion and passion. His melodies were often described as soulful and moving, evoking a deep sense of beauty and wonder. Some would even say that his playing was like watching an angel from Heaven!
But one day…he grew lonely. Very lonely.
Sampson, who was ten years Hendrick’s senior, had noticed his sudden depression. Although he didn’t have much, and was a servant, he tried to make him happy again. He called out the royal fool and together they tried to perform a show. They juggled balls, and pillars, and the royal dogs spun around in circles, like swans on a lake.
But it didn’t work.
“I know you love me, Sampson,” he said, softly, “But my sadness is far too great. I don’t have the heart to be happy.”
But Sampson didn’t give up.
He tried to tell a story. A story about a prince who was cursed to be down in the underworld and an angel came to save him, baptized him.
But that didn’t work either.
“You’re stories excite me, my dear Sampson,” said Hendrick, “But alas, they don’t have the power to make me happy again.”
Sampson sat down, defeated.
“I don’t understand, my lord. When you were wee younger, my stories would even send you to sleep, your mother said. And me and the fools’ performances would be the highlight of suppertime.”
Hendrick’s eyes watered. He was so sad that his emotions couldn’t stand anymore.
He buried his head in his arms and cried softly. Sampson’s heart broke for the young prince. He patted him on the back.
“Please, my lord,” he said, comforting him, “Please, do not fret. Whatever it is, we can make it right. Just say it and it is done.”
“Oh, Sampson…” Hendrick whimpered.
The servant observed the prince’s sad face. His sad, chiseled face.
“I am only lovesick, good man,” he sniffled, “I am the crown prince and I will soon be the king. But I am needing a wife to continue the royal bloodline. But I am so young. I am not yet eighteen.”
“But sire,” said Sampson, “You must first cheer yourself up before finding love. The key to finding a princess is for your heart to be happy. However, I do find it ridiculous. Even though marrying a princess is important to the kingdom, what would happen if even a commoner can extend the bloodline?”
“The bloodline is important, lad. Silesia needs a legitimate heir. A commoner cannot become the queen…just like that. But I am so lonely.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Sampson, “It’s no wonder we haven’t heard any of your fine music in years. Why, when you were at the age of twelve, the girls born in nobility would gather around the courtyard and watch you play up on the balcony. You were so handsome that even some of them started to weep. But you were so frustrated you gently had to turn down each and every one of them. Ah, ‘tis the king’s favorite story to tell over supper.”
Eventually, Hendrick seemed to smile after so long.
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Away from the palace, there was a community of flower fairies nestled in a village of forest and flowers. Roses in particular. They fluttered around the trees and above the grass.
They gathered around the white glowing rose in the middle of a palace made with white rose petals and beautiful honeysuckle. Guards and other servants also gathered around too…
Suddenly, the flower had gently opened and a young fairy peaked out her head. Little Odessa had just woken up. She couldn’t speak any words yet. She looked all around the scented garden and watched all of the other fairies who were surrounding her.
“Hello?” she squeaked.
The small fairy had long brunette hair and big, hazel eyes. Her dress was pink and made with fine tulle and silk. She squeaked again and tried to flutter from her flowerbed. But her beautiful white wings were still very sleepy. She quickly landed on the soft grass and slowly perked up her wings. They then fluttered softly.
“Princess…” said a guard, “It is your sixteenth year. It must be celebrated!”
Odessa squeaked again, nodding her head. She then yawned and stretched as she fluttered wearily inside the palace. The other fairies were worried about her. It was as if she had been sleeping less than usual. Odessa fluttered to her bedchamber and laid down on the soft, squishy bed. However, her eyes watered. This concerned her servants.
“My lady,” said a servant, “What troubles you? We have not seen you this sad before.”
“I am the noblest of ladies of the court,” she sobbed, “Only the first to be the queen, yet I am the saddest of the fairies of this kingdom.”
“What troubles you?” said another servant, “We won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell us.”
“Sweet servants,” Odessa sobbed, “I am but very, tragically downhearted. In honesty, I have no such friend. I am always fluttering my blessed wings around these parts of our beautiful forest, but no one bothers to speak to me, nor flutter with me. ‘Tis depress’d but it shall speak truth.”
“But there is a catch,” said a court fairy, “All of the ladies in the court are wishing to be beneath your pretty shoes.”
“But mine own heart wants anoth’r. A prince with a valorous intention and a rich soul.”
“Where would we even find the one like that?” said the servant, “If there were to be a prince, you would have to scout one of the boy fairies. Not as handsome or beautiful, but they are kindred and gentle like how you want a prince a be.”
Odessa frowned. She although she was among friends with all of the fairies. She was attracted to none of them.
“I hope for someone else. One that holds me when I am sad, one that kisses me goodnight, one that makes me happy, and one that would protect me from the harshest of harshness of the world around me.”
“You’ll find him,” said the other servant, “And don’t worry…nothing is harsh when there’s the most powerful energy of love.”
But in the evening, she was very lonely. As the moths took over the butterflies garden work, Odessa then fluttered out from her bedchamber and danced around the gardens. However, she didn’t even smile once as she glided across the grass on the tips of her toes. She frowned and her eyes watered so much that tears began to roll down her cheeks.
<How I wish for someone to be with me>, she thought, sobbing to herself.
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The ladies and gentlemen of the official royal court of Silesia were wearing all black. An unfortunate color. And so, the young Prince Hendrick climbed out of bed and quietly went downstairs. Through the halls and pillars, he passed by the banquet hall. Although he was eighteen, the prince was not allowed to stay up so late.
<Curses>, he thought.
However, the moment he peaked through the door, he saw a painting of his old pal, old chum. Sampson. Hendrick feared the worst. Sampson was dead! Kaput! The prince looked down at his feet, whimpering softly. He then sobbed into his hands as he slowly walked through the pillars, hallways, and back upstairs.
He curled up on his bed, his tears soaking the soft silk of his pillows. He couldn’t cry out, though. He didn’t want his mother and father to worry that he had found out about what happened to Sampson. But he was an old friend of his. And Hendrick felt lost.
For years, Sampson had took great care of the little prince, ever since his birth. He was only ten years of age. The moment the lord-in-waiting set is eyes on the baby prince, he fell in love. And from then on, he took care of him, like a big brother. They would play, eat, and laugh. But now the prince’s best companion had died at the age of twenty-eight.
That same night, the memorial was continuing and the poor prince couldn’t find any sleep. Slumber was deprived. And so, he wandered around his room to tire him out. He then looked up at his wall-mounted hanger, where hung his violin and bow. The instrument was a dark and muddy brown, and the bow was red as blood; the hair was soft and white as snow.
He last played his violin during the Spring, a time when flower fairies fluttered around people’s gardens and flower pots. But not a single fairy or sprite paid a visit or flutter-by.
The heartbroken Hendrick walked out to his balcony, watching the bright moon and stars collide. As he watched the comets darted lines everywhere, there was a sense of awe and beauty coming from the inside of his heart. He smiled softly.
“The beautiful stars and the moon…” he whispered gently, “Such beauty and majesty…”
It wasn’t a cosmetic reaction in the sky. It was a beautiful ballet, the moon and stars dancing in the sky, whether a waltz or pas de deux. It was like a celestial show for the prince’s eyes.
“Such beauty and grandeur…” he whispered again, “Such an incredible sight.”
He looked over at his violin. He quickly glided over to grab it and then back to the balcony. He cradled this ancient instrument as if it were an infant. Coincidently, he felt a great surge of contentment. He lifted his violin up to his chin, and his bow, and gently brushed the first string. He was filled with relief as he heard the sound of the violin after a whole season later.
It was a gentle piece. It was for the loving memory of Sampson. The music filled the castle with its soft melody, echoing thorugh the halls and touching the hearts of all who heard it.
Hendrick continued to play his violin, his delicate, long fingers moving gracefully over the strings and his bow gliding smoothly over the instrument. Seemingly, he never lost his gentle touch. He played with skill and precision.
The music was even loud enough to reach the throne room. It was after the memorial banquet, when Nathaniel and Desorea where sitting on their royal red velvet chairs, resting their heads on each other. They suddenly woke up as they heard the music. They looked at each other, confused. Eventually, they get up and rushed upstairs. Once they burst into his bedchamber, they saw him out on his balcony, playing his violin. Even they are both in awe of his skill and mastery.
“How did our son learn to play like that?” Desorea asked.
“I don’t know, dear,” said Nathaniel, “He must have had natural talent for it. He has always had a love for music, but I never knew he was this talented. This is a gift from the gods…”
Hendrick’s finger’s fluttered on each string like butterfly wings, creating a delicate sound. He played with such dexterity, almost as if he was born to play this instrument.
“Do you see how talented our boy is dear?” Nathaniel asked.
“He is like a little angel playing this music.” said Desorea.
“He is truly gifted.”
“He plays so delicately and beautifully.”
“I never saw a side like this before on my son.”
“The music taste he has is so pleasant and heavenly. How did we end up having such a beau?”
“Doesn’t it feel lucky to have a well-talented son?”
Hendrick closed his eyes and his fingers reached the tip of the bridge, a high note like the cry of an angel. His fingers fluttered again and they trilled; he held for about fifteen seconds. That was a world record. And he held his vibrato, venting out that elegant and aromatic lullaby he played. By then, the piece came to an end and Hendrick gradually held the final note, letting it ring out into the air.
He slowly opened his eyes. The moon and stars were still there. It was as if he played only for the sky. However, he heard the sound of applause. It appeared that he had played in front of an audience. He then blushed. He felt the soft hand of his mother, rubbing his shoulder.
“Oh, darling,” said Desorea, “Don’t be too shy. Your playing was beautiful.”
But then, his eyes watered. He saw the vision of his faithful pal Sampson, standing at his door, smiling softly like he always had. The king and queen saw how distraught he was. What if he knows, they thought. But he was not allowed to be out of bed. And yet…here he is.
Eventually, Hendrick was back in bed. But all he could do was cry himself to sleep. And after all this time, he shouted out so loudly that the entire castle could hear. Including his mother and father.
“SAMPSON!!”