Into The Painting

I sat there, staring at the blank canvas. I was surrounded by tens upon hundreds of paintings, filled with picturesque scenes of boats and forests, dragons and elves, skylines and cityscapes. I had paints in as many colors as you could think of, brushes of varying sizes, and canvases in as many shapes, sizes and textures you could find. I had such power at my fingertips and yet...my mind was as blank as the canvas before me. In my hand, I held a brush, an old one, the bristles coated in a dull gray paint, as dull as my mind, only centimeters away from the canvas. I sat there for who knows how long, my legs crossed in my lap, the brush in my hand, the paint on the brush, and no paint on the canvas. I hadn’t realized how long it had been until I noticed the sun beginning to set in the sky. With an exasperated sigh, I threw the brush into a jar of water and stood, stretching. I looked down at the old wristwatch I had been given for my last birthday and saw exactly how long I had actually been sitting there. “F-four hours?” I stammered, “How could that have been four hours?” I let my arm flop back to my side as I walked over to the middle of the room, pulling the chain that hung from the single exposed light bulb. The yellow light illuminated the room, distorting the colors of the paintings surrounding me. I walked over to my favorite painting to view in this lighting. It was the last painting my father ever made before leaving for the war. It pictured a throne room from a bird’s eye view. There were three elegant thrones seated at the front of the room, a wooden, circular table in the center, and a brightly colored bird perched on a stand next to the center, largest, throne which I assumed belonged to the king. I picked it up off the floor and held it up to the light, chills being sent up my arms by the freezing metal frame. Suddenly, the bird’s wings opened, showing the beautiful coloring, the red and blue hues used to paint the undertones of the purple bird. I was completely mesmerized by the colors before realizing that the painting was moving! The bird didn’t miss a beat, it’s wings flapping as it took off from the perch, flying straight at me. I dropped the painting, tripping over a stool that stood behind me, and scrambled away as the bird flew straight out of the canvas. It burst out, gold sparks following it and forming a golden tail of sorts, same as the gold glint in the bird’s eyes. 

“Good evening young man,” The bird said in a proper, Brailian accent. The bird said? This bird, this painting of a bird, no this bird, was talking...to me?

“What are you?” I asked, my voice cracking as I scooted back further on the ground. 

“I believe the question is who am I,” The bird replied, a hint of offence in his voice, “And I can answer it. My name is Sir Elsu Aponi. I am assistant to the king, Sir Adelio Bodi as well as overseer of the prince, Master Felix Bodi.”

“Wait, that’s...me,” I replied, confused. This bird was saying that I, me, Felix, the painter...was a prince. “And Adelio is-was my dad’s name. A-are you saying my family is the royal family? It can’t be. What about the actual royal family, the Zeyelis?” I rambled. 

“No young master, your family is the royal family of Adelphia. You are the prince. Your mother, Thana Bodi, is the queen and your father is the king,” Alponi replied, “But why do you speak of your father as if he is gone? He is still in Adelphia. I’ll show you.”

“I’m sorry Sir Alponi but my father died in the Elven War. He’s...he’s gone.”

“Come with me,” Alponi said, extending his purple wing to me. Cautiously, I set my hand on his wing and felt immediate regret. My vision filled with gold sparks and I felt my feet leave the floor. When my vision finally cleared, I saw the last of my old world leaving and I fell down, my whole body falling, twisting limply as I hit the hard stone floor of the throne room. I stared up at the small, rectangular, window-like frame, viewing into my own world. Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself off the ground but something was off. My clothes weren’t my clothes. I was wearing a sky blue button-up shirt, a white and royal blue sash across my torso, a pair of navy trousers, and a silver crown with purple and blue gems lay on the floor, close to where I had fallen but my feet were still bare. I grabbed the crown and looked around the room, setting it on my mess of black hair. It was exactly like the painting sitting in my studio. Alponi flew over me, landing elegantly back on his perch next to the throne. Suddenly, I heard a pair of large wooden doors swing open behind me and boots clicking across the tile floor. I whipped around to see my father, in an outfit, although darker colors, not unlike mine, followed by many soldiers in silver armor with blue and purple cloth details, all carrying swords. 

“Dad!” I shouted, my eyes tearing up. He left for the war when I was 10, 5 years ago. When I was 11, my mother and I received the news that he had been killed in combat. How was he here? I ran to him, hugging him as tightly as I could. 

“Felix? What are you doing here? How did you get into the throne room?”

“What is this place?” I asked at the same time, letting go of him. 

“It’s Adelphia,” He replied, looking confused, “You’ve lived here since you were born, you should know where it is. Stop messing around. Now answer my questions, you know you aren’t supposed to be in here.” I pointed behind me at the perch next to his throne but Alponi was only a wooden decoration, painted brightly, but no longer alive. 

“What is it? Did the wooden bird get you in here?” A soldier behind my father laughed. My face turned bright red. 

“C’mon Felix, you’re too old for these sorts of antics,” My father scolded, “Alger, take Felix back to his room.” The soldier who made the earlier comment stepped forward, bowed, and led me out of the throne room, a smirk on his face and a tight grip on my arm. He led me down many halls of stone and tile, blue and purple flags and benches and down three flights of stone stairs. He pulled a large, black metal key off the ring on his belt and slipped it into the keyhole of a huge wooden door with a single circular, grated window high, too high for me to see through. 

“Here you are Prince,” Alger sneered, pushing the door open and shoving me into the vast, dimly lit room. 

“Wait! I have questions!” I shouted as he closed the door, locking it loudly, “I’m not who you think I am! Please let me out!” I slammed my fist on the door but it didn’t budge. Why was I being treated like this? Where was I? If I was the prince, why was I being locked up like a toddler in time-out? I stood back from the door, inspecting it. It was at least two inches thick, made of a solid wood slab. The window I realized, was not a window at all, but a grate that had been attached to the outside to look like a window, but there was no evidence of it on the inner side of the door. I looked around the room, my back to the door, I needed to find a way out. There was a large, four poster bed in the corner of the furthest back wall, deep blue blankets over it. I flopped onto it, burying my face in the soft velvet blankets. “Ugh!” I groaned, rolling onto my back, my eyes closed, “How am I going to get out of here?”

“I can help with that!” A boy’s voice with a deep Western accent shouted from above me.

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting up, my eyes wide, “Who’s there?”

“Well hello there,” A boy, around 17, a bit older than me, said swinging down from the rafters. His hair was a bright blonde and he was dressed in all black, a red bandana covering his mouth and tight black, slipper-like shoes on his feet. 

“Who are you?” I asked as he stood on the top frame of the bed, his eyes bright. 

“The real question is: who are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you weren’t who they thought you were so who are you?”

“I-I’m Felix Bodi. A painter, not a-a prince,” I stuttered, fiddling with the hem of my untucked dress shirt, suddenly nervous and a bit intimidated by the boy’s presence, “Now who are you?”

“The name’s Akio,” The boy smirked, jumping from different pieces of the bed frame as he removed the bandana from around his mouth, allowing me to see his sharp jawline as well as his shaggy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail in the middle of the back of his head. 

“So what did you mean when you said you could help me get out of here?” I questioned, standing on the bed, almost falling over as the mattress sunk at my weight. 

“Just follow me,” He chuckled, crouching down and holding a hand out to me with a sly smile. I clenched my jaw and set my small hand in his bigger one. He closed his hand around mine and he pulled with incredible strength and suddenly I was on the bed frame next to him. I lost my balance, my arms windmilling but a steady hand around my waist kept me from falling. I turned to see Akio, laughing at my lack of balance. I pouted, crossing my arms, straightening the crown on my head, and planting my bare feet firmly on the hard wooden beam. 

“You can’t laugh at me!” I objected, “I’m the prince.” 

“Sure you are Lix,”Akio chuckled, “Now, I’m going to move fast so you can either promise you’ll keep up or you can get on my back and promise you’ll hold on.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine Aki,” I spat, emphasizing a mocking of the nickname he had already chosen for me, trying hard not to blush, a smirk on my face now as well. 

“Alright, if you say so,”Akio muttered. I seemed to have only blinked when suddenly, Akio was at least 3 yards above me, standing on a beam of the rafters. “You coming?” As if he read my mind, he swung back down to my level and gestured for me to get onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and hid my face in his neck, trying not to show how red my face was. He was quite a bit taller than me so sitting comfortably on his back was easy. Swiftly, he jumped and pulled us up onto the highest beam of the rafters, making sure I was never slipping. It was nice to have someone so set on making sure I wasn’t going to get hurt. Growing up, my parents weren’t home much; maybe this was why. They had a kingdom to run. Suddenly, we stopped and I opened my eyes, not noticed I had had them clenched shut. Akio slipped me off his back, keeping his hand on my waist until he was sure I had my balance. We stood, at least 25 feet above my bed on a dark wooden beam about a foot wide. He let me rest for a bit and was about to gesture for me to return to my position on his back when we heard a sudden noise from below us. Down on the floor, a woman, no-my mother had burst into the room!

“Felix! My son!” I heard her shout, her voice laced with sadness. I opened my mouth to reply but Akio covered my mouth with his hand. He gave me a look that said, “trust me,” before pulling me onto his back again. I didn’t know why I was trusting this boy I barely knew but in a world of the unknown, he seemed to know what he was doing. I just...trusted him. It felt as if I knew him. I heard my mother continuing to yell below me, knowing she was confused and worried as I seemed to have simply disappeared from my room. I hadn’t been paying attention to where Akio had been taking us so when I finally was out of earshot of my mother’s yells, I noticed we were outside, on the roof. He had pushed open a skylight and pulled us up. He slid me off his back and I sucked in a sharp breath of air as my bare feet hit the cold metal roofing. Akio chuckled as he noticed, took a deep breath, and pulled my back onto his back. I hadn’t noticed how cold the actual air was until I felt the heat coming from him and I shivered, pulling myself closer to his warmth. 

I could hear his smirk as he asked, “Where to Your Majesty?”

“How should I know?” I replied, my voice cracking, “I don’t know anything about this place.”Akio nodded and I could see the gears in his head turning. 

"Hold on," He said, tightening his grip on my arms, "I have an idea."