One Word; Love

“And this, this, I have decided upon, already!” Kittan shouted as he jumped from atop a few precariously stacked trunks and trinket boxes in the Bardalo House attic. He, adorned in a large black jacket covered in gold stars and a rather pirate-esque style hat also covered in stars, but much smaller than on the jacket. “Decided on what Kit?” Dana roughly questioned him poking his side a few times with a stick she had previously thought only good for one thing; magic making. “And you might want to get off mother's gowns while you're at it.” She quipped at him removing the sharp stick from his side and thrusting it towards the now spilled-open box and moving it in a circular motion around the dirty dresses under his muddy boot covered feet. 1

“Why, I have decided to travel the most honourable path any old sea dog has ever travelled! I travel the path to.. Er..” Kit dropped his sentence as he realised what Dana had just said, he removed himself from the clothes and re-established his composure. “I'm going to talk to her! That's what I have decided, today, I shall talk to her...” He finished, beginning to blush as he started fiddling with the pockets of his father's jacket, buttons and clasps while his eyes stayed fixed to the ground avoiding Dana's surprised look of curiosity. 2

“You realise you're not going to get anywhere doing that right Kit?” Dana finally asked trying to stop herself from laughing somewhat mockingly at her younger brother, “You've been holding this off forever and a day already my dear brother..” She concluded, feeling undetectably sorry for him; He had been picking up the blind courage he now seemed to possess in large excess for quite some time, but he didn't seem to realise the implications attached to such pointless hope gathering.. “I couldn't care less, Dana. This is what I want to do, no harm in it right?” He asked, the hurt tone obvious in his now quivering voice.3

“I suppose not.. But you know, I'd advise you not to even attempt it.. Or at least, please, don't do anything ridiculously hot-headed, alright?” She replied, worried but still not terribly concerned for her brother.4

“Alright..” He answered half heartedly.5

“Dana, Kittan!” A voice called out from down the stairs catching their attention before they both looked at each other and as Kit turned back to the large silky red trunk and began packing his Father's jacket and hat away; He could hear the sound of his sister's echoed footsteps hurriedly making their way down the rusty ladder leading down to the corridor beneath the attic before they padded their way slowly through the hallway. 6

He heard a door close quickly and sighed. “Olive.. Hmm.. Such a pretty name... If only she were mine.” 7

The sun rose over the court yard and Kittan shivered slightly, it was a rather cold day and the dew covered grass looked more like ice covered metal prongs of destruction.. Or so he had been convinced by his hyperactive friend who seemed to have taken over gardening of the terrace in it's entirety. Kittan was there in the middle of the terraces main patio surrounded by oddly styled trees and plants for one reason only, Olive. He knew she would be coming any moment now.. As she usually passed by the terrace after cleaning the kitchen in the morning before going to collect flowers from the garden... He stood there daydreaming, often being swayed from side to side by the rush of air created by hurrying servants and maids quickly making their way to their next point of enquiry or to rest.. He didn't care to find out which, his mind was firmly set on Olive.. That's all he ever thought about.. He couldn't not think about her; Why, that would be unthinkable! 8

All he wanted to do was be close her, protect her... But deep in the recesses of his love filled mind he knew he couldn't be with her.. Not acceptably anyway, you see, it would be against the law of the civilised land, why, for such a lowly girl to be presented with a fine high standing man like Kittan- That too would be unthinkable, such an affair would be to disregard the honour of his prestigious family, to burn all bridges from them back to his doorstep, to break the sacred ties of his ancestors creed, to refuse the hand that fed him. He would surely be cast from the family home and disinherited; His heart ached at such a terrible realisation, it burnt at his insides emptying his heart of all the feelings he had ever felt and thrusting them right out of his mouth voiding him of all reason. 9

He wondered how he would take care of Olive if it did come to being cast from his rank and suddenly becoming penniless like the rest of those folk down near the city gates.. That too would be an impossibility; He wanted to make her his princess, set her in the lap of luxury, she deserved a good life.. And he hoped he would be able to provide such a life for her.. And if not him, that someone else would make her happy.. 10

Still, he was determined to win her heart; He was in love. 11

“Eh.” He heard a small whimper as someone somewhat smaller and more fragile than himself roughly bolted into him and fell sitting on the cold ground just beneath him. Gentle blue eyes, full of emotion but also empty at the same time looked up open his figure starting to water slightly, he peered back at them, “Oh.. I..” He started, shocked that she had arrived so soon, and that she was looking up at him with such pleading eyes. “You're Olive right?” He finally asked quietly reaching his hand out to meet her chin and crouching down in front of her. She nodded in response and he smiled, slyly, but in such a way that would woo any woman he came across with half a heart. Olive looked dreamily into his eyes and she started to cry, she looked frightened, but a smile crept around her face slowly as Kittan helped her up. 12

“I'm.. Kittan.” He said once she had finally stood up and he had started patting her woollen dress and apron down gently. She nodded again; She knew just who he was, very well in fact, she had often watched him play the piano late at night from the bottom step of the main household staircase admiring his skill and tenacity silently from a distance; mind you that was the only way she could view him, silently for Olive was incapable of talking, a mute you might say, well, she could whisper, but usually her nervousness forbid her of even such a delicate action as that. “Are you alright?” He asked passing his handkerchief her way. She nodded, this time managing to throw out a whispered 'Thank you' in his direction. 13

“Good.” He responded watching her wipe her tears away. 14

“Olive!” The head maid, Rosetta shouted out of the upstairs window of the main house. Olive turned her head shyly looking away from Kittan, “You should go..” Kittan said quietly reaching for her hand. She nodded and briskly removed herself from his grip and made her way back into the house. 15

“Oh, blast it all.” Kittan thought to himself standing there, rubbing his head slightly as a lonely feeling crept upon him even with the bustle of people passing by him. He had failed, or at least, he thought he had. 16

“What on Earth were you doing out there Olive?” Rosetta reprimanded the girl. “I.. I was..” She started to whisper, trying to gather a suitable story from some deep cavern in her mind. “You know very well what she was doing ma'am.” The gardener boy, Ferrace called out to the pair as he made his way down the stairs in as much of a classy manner as he could pull off; Referring to the rather young, yet quite in charge maid as 'ma'am' just to ruffle her feathers slightly; He enjoyed such teasings greatly. “Oh I do, do I pretty boy?” She remarked in return, turning to the boy. 17

“You do indeed, I had a message for Master Kittan, you remember, no?” He replied looking away casually, a sly grin flashing over his face quietly. “You what?!” Rosetta questioned him, incredulity plain to see on her pale face. “You heard me; A message, dear; I was telling you about it in your bedroom last night..” He scoffed, stifling a small laugh, “Now if you don't mind..” He continued, pulling her close to him as he pulled at her apron causing her to blush in a flustered manner before she could argue with him. “I believe this young lady has some tables to polish.” 18

“Eh..” Rosetta began, “That she does..” Straightening out her apron as she tried to remove herself from Ferrace's regularly sunburnt grip. “Go on then Olive, those tables won't wait forever!” Ferrace then instructed Olive, gesturing over to the door as he struggled with the now disgruntled Rosetta in one arm and waved a trowel around in the other. Olive merely nodded and hurried away down the corridor, thankful for such a helpful excuse from Kittan's close apparition; This made her think she was well thought of in their camp, truly a gladdening prospect for the quiet maid girl.