On the night of the performance, the twin princesses arrived at the Malmhule Royal Theatre via private carriage, stunning the throng of local socialites gathered before the great ornate facade of the prestigious performance hall into silence and awe from their conversation with their presence alone upon alighting from the passenger’s compartment, both of them accrued in some of the finest regalia in their wardrobes reserved for only the most esteemed of social events. Silfr was outfitted in a long, narrow dress – woven from black threads with purple fringes – which complimented her slender figure, with a high collar that banded tightly around her thin neck and wide sleeves which dangled loosely from her fragile wrists. Slightly off-centre atop her head, she wore a small fascinator resembling a bouquet of inky hydrangeas encircled within a wreath of shadowy ivy, from which decorative netting hung to partially veil her haggard face, though it would have perhaps been better suited for the attendance of a funeral rather than the theatre.
Silfr’s efforts at making a respectable public appearance, however, were utterly overshadowed by Eir’s elaborate, puffy-sleeved gown of marigold cloth hemmed with white frills in addition to a complex scene of a flowerbed in full bloom portrayed in pearly embroidery close to the bottommost trimming that ran all around its wide perimeter, which itself just barely fitted through the door of their transport. Her heeled slippers clacked against the cobblestone street as she tripped over her own frock during her exit, her auburn locks – freshly curled into fluffy ringlets which rested upon her shoulders and partially hid a silver diadem set with emerald ovals resting on her crown – bouncing during her brief stumble.
Immediately following on from regaining her balance, Eir turned to beam brightly and wave with both hands – each clad in a silken glove which extended a little past her elbows – towards what she perceived to be an adoring public, which seemed to be the catalyst in sparking a whole new buzz of excited discussion amongst the aristocrats and yuppies which the twin princesses were no doubt the focal point thereof. Although Eir enjoyed the lively atmosphere, her more reserved sibling seized her by the wrist before she had an opportunity to mingle with their fellow theatre-goers and hauled her past the flock into the playhouse’s foyer ahead of when the performance was due to begin. Silfr quickly flashed a pair of tickets toward the first attendant she came across, who then escorted them to a private box far above any other seat in the auditorium save for a second loge located directly across on the opposite side of the stage which they both overlooked side-on.
“Wooow! We’re so high up!” Eir exclaimed the obvious, peering over the bannister after the attendant had left them. “But why have we gotta sit in these silly seats, Silf? It’s gonna be hard watching the show sidey-ways!” She added, the first complaint of many she would voice that night.
“I absolutely abhor the mixing with sheep-like multitudes ‘neath my standing where I can help it, especially with the manner in which they idiotically gawp and fawn over our mere advent for the superficial fact we have royal blood flowing with our veins. I would prefer not be made of such a spectacle, and I disapprove greatly of your encouragement of such behaviour through your earlier flaunting.” Silfr responded with her usual monotone as she took her place upon one of the two lavishly designed seats cushioned with red velvet present within the booth, removing her headwear and placing it on her lap.
“Hm-hm, hm-hm!” Eir hummed and nodded as if she agreed with Silfr’s sentiments, though in truth understood little of her sister’s grandiloquent vernacular, before joining beside her on the empty chair.
About a quarter of an hour later, the rest of the general audience began to pour into the auditorium to take their own places in the lower stalls, many of them glancing upwards to the box for a chance to catch another rare glimpse of the princesses before the lights would be dimmed, with Eir airily waving her gloved hand yet again towards those she just so happened to meet with her hazel eyes while Silfr remained aloof, her attention focused towards the stage even though the curtain had yet to be raised.
It was not long after this that the pit orchestra started to warm up, the spectators settling down as the curtain was at last lifted onto an expertly crafted set depicting the forgotten ruins of the fictitious Castle Vandenbracht half-submerged in the midnight marshes of Ostmür before the leading lady costumed in the tattered garb of a peasant milk maiden burst onto the scene from stage right to start wailing a melancholy melody in the Sachsen language, specifically in the dialect peculiar to its easternmost state.
“Pssst…Silf…” Eir leaned over and gained her sister’s attention not long after the opening number had begun before whispering aside: “Who’s that meant to be?”
“That is the pious maiden Lena Unsuntîg, central character of this dramatic work.” Silfr answered with prompt frankness.
“Oooh~!” Eir then cooed from this enlightenment before sitting herself straight once again to turn her attention back to the performance, though her silence this would last only a few seconds before she asked her younger twin another question. “…What’s she singing about?”
“…She is lamenting on having fled far from her home in the dead of night in order to escape her abusive husband, who has become a bitter man in the years following their marriage, and the once-unconditional love she had held for him has since wavered.” The raven-haired princess responded once again, though this time with a moment’s less immediacy, as if she was caught off-guard by having another query directed towards her so soon after the last.
“Aaah~!” Eir expressed her revelation before following on with an additional obvious observation: “Gee…sounds kinda sad…doncha think?”