The Oasis

Or is it just a Mirage...?

I could feel the waves crashing at my feet, my toes twitched to the sandy grit, the salty air filled my breath, the breeze brushing past my hair, I could hear the giggles from everywhere, sounds of joy here and there, I felt a hand holding mine, our fingers intertwined, I closed my eyes drowning in this love….

And woke to the snow’s bite in the citadel high above…

The silver-laden clouds rumbled , the twisting path to the garden cuts through the walls , and there he was , on a heavy rustic armchair , his head tossed back, his beautiful lush locks of hair dangling from the headrest and strands of his hair adorning his rested face…

*Twig snaps*

OH! seven skies! *gasps for air* , oh-oh its you starling, that startled me *sighs*. My apologies for that, please take a seat , our conversations are long overdue.

…

Dearest Starling,

The seasons of the city have arrived at my doorstep. Cupid’s invitations lie there on the bureau—untouched, collecting dust. My feet are placid, ready to slam open those doors and run into the bustling crowds of the enchanting city, but something pulls me back.

During our time apart, much has transpired. Another unexpected traveler graced the halls of this cold citadel: Lady Rosaline of Wesbrooke. The last time I saw her was at a ball several moons ago. It feels comical to recollect that countless seasons passed by in her presence, yet only her arrival thawed the soil of this foreboding place. Cherished times, those were—which we didn’t get the chance to relive after she married the Duke of Wesbrooke and I confined myself to these walls. Seeing her after eons somehow brought summer to winter’s home.

“Busy as always, Bea?”, her glass heels clinked against the icy cold floor. Between the click of her footsteps and the rustle of endless paper scrolls in my hand, I heard a sigh, “We meet after ages, and not even a glance? Have I erred in bringing myself this far?”, her gaze pierced my soul.

“Dear Rosie—or should I address you as Lady Wesbrooke? What brings you to this boring old man?” My tone dripped with sarcasm and mockery. “Has the warmth of Wesbrooke finally bored you, that you’ve found yourself in this most unusual place?”

“Oh, how glad I am that you haven’t changed a bit with that mockery. I missed you, ‘Lord Betelgeuse.’ Not only Wesbrooke—all seven heavens seem a bit off without our endless banter.” She reached out to hold my hands. “What has ever possessed you to abandon the enchanting city and make a nest in this place? It’s so… devoid of everything.”

That question made me wonder if she remembered why I left the enchanting city. Had she forgotten why we hadn’t met for eons? Had time eroded her memory? “Are you really wondering about that, Lady Wesbrooke? I think we both know why I had to find a home within the walls and halls of this citadel.” I shot her a glare. “And of all places, Wesbrooke holds the memories of things that drove me away—”

The shimmer faded from her face before I could finish. “You could have always gone back to Olympia—your home. But little did I imagine you’d end up here!” She looked at me with those hazel eyes. “Isn’t this just being too headstrong?”

“The only person who was headstrong was Gregory, Lady Rosaline.” The heavy staff jolted the ground. Orion’s raspy voice echoed through the halls. “And your little Bea here doesn’t need your pity—nor do you need to feel guilty. He’s thrived all this while. And even if he’s hesitant, the constellations would drag him to the enchanting city.” His robes flowed over the stairs as he made his way to the hall.

I was amused. What even made him think this time would be any different? Just because Cupid’s invitations had arrived didn’t mean I’d changed my mind—not completely, at least. “What makes you say that, Mage? That sounds presumptuous.”

“Mage Orion—I’ve only heard tales of you,” Rosaline bowed, composing herself. “Glad to see the man behind the stories.” After a pause, she added, “It wasn’t pity, rather... an unexplainable paradox—”

He coughed. “A paradox that arose because Gregory Wesbrooke stole both your hearts? Doesn’t sound like a paradox to me.” He adjusted his robe as he sat in the armchair. “Not all rivers meet the same ocean, and the ocean doesn’t get to choose its river—the stars do. Little Bea here is still finding his way to his ocean. All in good time.”

I was at a loss for words yet again. “Firstly, it’s Lord Betelgeuse, not Bea! And secondly—why are we even bringing this up?!”. My eyes met Rosie’s. In the silence that followed, a lot was said without words—stories and memories lost to time jolted back to life. In that brief moment, we both traversed back, reliving every forgotten memory lost to the sands of time.

“How many more times will you replace yourself with an identical substitute in a story you’ve imagined for yourself—just because you deem yourself ‘unworthy,’ Bea?” , her face flushed red with anger. “Aren’t you tired of the deceit you keep weaving to find comfort in your own perceived inferiority? Don’t you ever want to live your life as yours? Sometimes it’s not all preach and poems—you have to live out a few things.”

“You knew…? How—?” I looked at her with disbelief. “Have you known all along?”

“Doesn’t matter how long I’ve known this. Don’t you dare get comfortable in that dirty loop of narratives you feed yourself. As much as I love Gregory, I hate the way he responded to you—he should’ve been kinder. You didn’t deserve to be shamed that way.” Tears flowed down her radiant cheeks. “We were all partly at fault for what transpired in the past—”

“Oh please! You just told him not to live by narratives—what is this that you’re doing now, my lady?” Orion placed a hand on Rosie’s shoulder. “You were all younglings then. The seasons have worked their magic on your young hearts, the stars have spoken, and time has passed. It already speaks volumes about how pure your heart is, my lady—your love transcended realms.”

“What in the seven heavens?! Who is this Gregory? And… shaming, deceit, malice—these are stories I haven’t heard or witnessed!” Raven—Orion’s apprentice—flew in from the cascading balconies next to the halls. He perched on the stair railing, transforming into his human form. “My, my, Betelgeuse. Aren’t you a mysterious one? So much you’ve hidden from us, huh? Who knew the guy who drowns himself in work here in the Cosmic Citadel had a past rooted in all realms?”

I sighed, making my way to the balcony overlooking the enchanting city. Snow adorned every inch of the citadel, yet there it was—the place I longed to return to, even as I’d fled it for so long. The cold wind knew the warmth beyond these walls; the faint bustle of the city chimed through the howling gusts. How to untangle this love-hate with that city?

I headed to the Repository, where countless memories lay stored—ones I’d cast away from the stars’ light. They now radiated with a faint glow: memories that once defined “home.” Days in that Oasis were of absolute bliss, endless games of hearts—breaking apart, rebuilding into someone new. I’d redefined my light so much, I no longer recognized the reflection staring back . That one chance at love’s game had burned the bridges between Me and I.

Raven walked beside me, lips whispering in my ear, “Fate back then was ugly, and you were a lost lamb.” , he took my hand, leading me to the Hall of Mirrors. “Look at your reflection now—you not only know it; it is you. Even amid this palace of mirrors, you’d find your way to yourself, my dear way finder. For now, you’re not just Betelgeuse—you’re your own North Star. But even the North Star needs its moon.”

“This ordeal is not one of love, dearest Betelgeuse,” Mage said, resting a hand on Raven’s shoulder, glancing back at me. “This odyssey is for searching something absolute—something that defines you beyond self and ego. I’m proud of how far you’ve come, but there’s a long road ahead.”

I picked up the heap of invitations. “One more chance wouldn’t hurt, right?” I flipped through them. Mage eyed me, “Oh, it might hurt like the fires of Bristlewood’s furnaces, for all we know.”

“Don’t scare me now—it took an eternity to even consider this.” Trouble clouded my face. Raven snatched an invitation and handed it over. “But this time, if you try running, I’ll sever your legs myself.”

“That’s a threat.” I frowned.

Rosaline approached. “You just have to be wiser this time. Wiser decisions forge wiser souls—and wiser souls catch you when you stumble.”

I opened Raven’s invitation. The last time, I’d hesitated at Cupid’s call. No more delays—I couldn’t evade confrontation forever. If I must face it, better when sane. I read: “Lord Betelgeuse, the Summer Palace invites you to the ‘Hour of Gold.’ Lords and ladies of all realms will attend. We’re excited to have you back after many moons; the court will be delighted if you grace us. Lord Cupid and his Summer Court anticipate your presence.”

…

Gilded pillars towered above, stars dazzling the twilight sky. Violins hummed; perfection was everywhere—crafted like glass dolls. The ornate doors slid open gracefully. Amid these flawless figures, I found myself at the center of their perfect world once more. Whispers rippled through the halls, all eyes fixed as I made my way to my seat. There he was—Gregory Wesbrooke.

Lets play this game our way this time shall we starling?