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******
It wasn't the polite, measured chuckle she gave to foreign dignitaries. It was a real, bell-like, joyous sound that echoed beautifully off the crystal chandeliers. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Hehehe... you are so incredibly funny," Diana smiled, the heavy melancholy of the past year completely melting away under his magnetic wit. "But truly, Mr. Meyers, where are your parents?"
"You mean my security detail?" Marvin asked, stepping smoothly past the threshold. "They are downstairs in the lobby. I find that hulking men with earpieces tend to entirely ruin the ambiance of a private dinner."
"No, no," Diana laughed again, closing the distance between them. "I am asking about your parents. Does your mother know you are wandering around London hotels in a tuxedo?"
"My parents are managing their respective empires back in America," Marvin replied casually, his tone brushing off the question as if it were entirely trivial. "I came to London to work. Well, I came with bodyguards, a tutor, and an entire film production crew, but the point stands. I am operating independently."
Diana tilted her head, her sharp ears catching the subtle shift in his vowels. "Wait... you are American? I couldn't tell from your accent at all. When Mary spoke to you earlier, she said you sounded like you were born in Mayfair."
"I have a tiny bit of talent for languages," Marvin noted with a modest, yet deeply arrogant, shrug.
His casual boasting completely disarmed Diana. If an adult man had stood in her suite and spoken with such supreme, unwavering arrogance, she would have found it obnoxious and immediately put her guard up. But coming from this impossibly handsome, sharply dressed little man, it was infused with a layer of fascinating, theatrical charm. It felt safe, yet incredibly compelling.
"Yes, I can certainly tell you have a profound talent for languages," Diana smiled, her curiosity now entirely overriding her shock. She knelt down slightly, bringing her face closer to his eye level, the faint scent of her expensive jasmine perfume washing over him. "So, my young, brilliant gentleman... may I ask about that beautiful tune you were humming? It touched my soul. Who composed it?"
"Actuallyâ" Marvin began.
"Call me Diana," she interrupted softly, her sea-blue eyes searching his. She didn't let the shadow of her past pull her back into sadness. "I am not a princess anymore. I am just Diana."
"Yes, Diana," Marvin corrected smoothly, his voice dropping a register, wrapping around her name like dark velvet. "To answer your question... I sang the song. And I also composed it."
Deep within his soul, the ancient Incubus didn't feel a single shred of remorse for blatantly plagiarizing the melancholic masterpiece of an elven bard from a world that no longer existed. He delivered the lie with the flawless conviction of absolute truth.
"What?!"
Diana stood back up, her emotions, which had just barely settled into a comfortable amusement, violently spiking all over again.
"Are you serious?" she gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. She couldn't help but ask again, desperately needing to confirm the impossibility of the statement. "You composed that complex, heartbreaking melody? You?"
"Diana," Marvin said, taking a deliberate step closer, his aura flaring just enough to make her heart skip a beat. "Please do not look at me as if I am an ordinary boy. I am a genius."
He didn't say it like a child bragging on a playground. He stated it as a cold, irrefutable law of physics.
"A... a genius?" Diana whispered, completely captivated by the intense, ancient depth in his nebula-blue eyes.
"Yes," Marvin smiled, the heavy intensity vanishing in a flash, replaced by perfect, polite exasperation. "But Diana, as much as I enjoy watching you process my brilliance, shouldn't you invite me inside to properly converse? It is rather strange that we are having this profound conversation while I am still standing half-in and half-out of your hallway!"
"Oh! Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" Diana flushed a brilliant, beautiful pink, getting up stepping back and gesturing grandly into the suite. "It was entirely my oversight. I was just too excited. Please, Marvin, come in. Make yourself completely at home."
She turned to her maid, her eyes sparkling with a vibrant, youthful energy. "Mary, please go and pour our little gentleman... um... a glass of fresh juice. And bring the vintage Dom PĂŠrignon for me."
"Right away, Diana," Mary readily complied.
As she walked past Marvin toward the suite's private kitchenette, Mary shot the young boy a fierce, deeply grateful look. She hadn't seen such a genuine, unburdened smile on her mistress's face in years. Whatever strange, hypnotic charisma this American child possessed, it was filling the cold, lonely suite with an undeniable warmth.
"Right this way, Marvin," Diana said, her spirits incredibly light as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the spectacular, candlelit dining table set near the panoramic windows. "We have so much to talk about."
As Marvin stepped fully into the room, he absorbed the heavy, swirling aura of her newly ignited joy, his Incubus self purring with absolute satisfaction. The evening had just begun, and the harvest was going to be magnificent.
---
The heavy mahogany doors of the Harlequin Presidential Suite clicked shut, sealing out the sterile, quiet hallway of the Dorchester. Marvin stepped fully into the room, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers.
He looked around with an expression of mild, aristocratic curiosity, taking in the opulent silk drapery, the gilded mirrors, and the breathtaking panoramic view of a rain-slicked Hyde Park through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"How is it?" Diana asked, a warm, gracious smile gracing her lips as she gestured to the lavish surroundings. "This room is rather lovely, isn't it?"
Marvin turned his ocean-blue eyes back to her, his gaze sweeping over her striking crimson evening gown before meeting her sea-blue eyes.
"The architecture is certainly impressive, Diana," Marvin replied, his voice dropping to a smooth, resonant pitch that seemed to defy his physical age. "But marble and silk are just set dressing. It is the people within the room who truly make a place shine. Your presence makes this humble little royal suite look entirely under-decorated."
Diana paused, her eyes widening slightly before a genuine, radiant blush dusted her cheeks. "Hehe... my goodness. You really know how to flatter a woman, don't you?"
Marvin offered a modest, devastatingly charming bow of his head. "I am entirely helpless in the matter. I find it physically impossible to lie in the presence of a truly beautiful lady."
"Hahaha!"
Diana finally couldn't hold back. She threw her head back and burst into a bright, musical peal of laughter. It wasn't the measured, polite chuckle she had spent fifteen years perfecting for the British tabloids and royal banquets; it was the raw, uninhibited joy of a woman who was finally breathing free air.
Standing near the kitchenette, Mary paused in the middle of pouring a glass of fresh orange juice for Marvin and a flute of vintage Dom PĂŠrignon for Diana. The loyal maid hid a massive, deeply satisfied smile behind the crystal glassware. She looked at the eleven-year-old boy in the sharp tuxedo and thought, 'That kid is absolutely brilliant.'
"Please, Marvin, come sit," Diana urged, her spirits soaring as she led him toward an elegantly set dining table near the window. The table was adorned with flickering silver candelabras and pristine white porcelain.
As they took their seats, the dynamic shifted from formal introductions to an effortless, flowing conversation. For Diana, who was so accustomed to the rigid, suffocating protocols of high society, speaking with Marvin was like stepping out of a stuffy room into a cool breeze.
He was undeniably a child, which made him entirely "safe" and devoid of the predatory, romantic agendas of adult men. Yet, his mind operated with the terrifying, fascinating speed of a seasoned intellectual.
Over a dinner of perfectly seared sea bass and roasted winter vegetables, Marvin casually began to unravel the reality of his life in Los Angeles.
"What?" Diana gasped, setting her silver fork down with a clatter, her eyes wide with shock.
"You wrote a book? An actual, philosophical novel? And it's already published by Random House?"
"I found the children's literature market to be woefully lacking in existential depth," Marvin said casually, taking a sip of his juice. "So, I decided to correct the market."
"That is... I can hardly process that," Diana breathed, shaking her head. But before she could recover, Marvin continued.
"What?!" she exclaimed five minutes later, nearly knocking over her champagne flute.
"You are starring in a major Hollywood film? And you wrote the screenplay for it, too?!"
"Well, my Aunt Nancy needed a vehicle for her directorial debut," Marvin sighed dramatically, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. "I couldn't very well let her shoot a mediocre script, could I? Family loyalty is very demanding, Diana."
"My God, Marvin, you have absolutely stunned me," Diana laughed, resting her chin in her hand, looking at him with absolute fascination.
"When Mary told me you were a genius, I assumed she meant you were good at the piano. But you are... you are building creations! Now I truly believe it. You are a terrifying little genius."
"Chronologically, I am eleven," Marvin noted dryly. "But mentally, my studio accountants treat me like a ruthless forty-year-old executive."
Diana giggled, thoroughly entertained. For the next hour, Marvin regaled her with razor-sharp, witty observations about the absurdities of the Hollywood machine, the egos of adult actors, and the bizarre nature of American fame. He possessed a dark, cynical humor that perfectly aligned with her own private, rebellious streak.
By the time the plates were cleared, the heavy, rain-soaked gloom of London had completely vanished from Diana's heart.
The two relocated to the plush sitting area of the suite. Diana, still craving the magical feeling she had experienced on the balcony, leaned forward. "Marvin, earlier... you sang something so incredibly beautiful. It moved me to tears. Would you be willing to sing another song for me?"
Marvin smiled, his Incubus purring as he absorbed the rich, unburdened joy radiating from her. "I would be honored."
This time, he didn't choose an elven dirge of homesickness. He reached into his ancient memories and selected a piece composed by a legendary musician from the Succubus clanâa song roughly translated as "I Need Your Happiness."
As the name suggested, it was a profoundly cheerful, uplifting piece of music. Marvin carefully modulated his pure, unbroken boyish vocals. He stripped away the heavy, passionate, and lustful undertones that a Succubus would normally employ, adapting the magic to be entirely refreshing, playful, and effervescent.
He closed his eyes and began to hum, letting the ethereal, wordless melody fill the suite.
The sound was like auditory sunlight. It danced through the air, weaving a spell of absolute comfort and joy. As Diana listened, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the velvet sofa. A faint, peaceful smile blossomed on her face. The deep, ingrained worry lines between her browsâetched there by years of paparazzi flashes and palace betrayalsâcompletely smoothed out and disappeared.
When the final, crystal-clear note faded into the quiet hum of the rain against the glass, the room felt lighter, as if a physical weight had been lifted from the atmosphere.
Diana opened her eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. "Marvin... that was breathtaking. It's such a beautiful, pure vocal tone. I simply cannot believe your vocal control is so developed at your age. Every single note was perfectly in tune with the emotion of the song. I wish I could keep you by my side and just listen to you sing every single day."
Seeing Marvin's eyes widen in mock alarm at the prospect of being a royal captive, Diana couldn't help but chuckle. Overcome by a sudden, maternal surge of affection, she reached out and gently pinched his smooth, aristocratic cheek.
'What is it with women and pinching my face?' Marvin thought, suppressing an internal sigh of annoyance while maintaining a perfectly polite, charming smile on the outside.
*****
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