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[color=808080][color=10636f][b]#10636f[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/1aStJpQ][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]near the shore of the bramble weave[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The outskirts of the Valley of Kings was a peaceful thicket of forest that hugged the sides of the Bramble Weave just before the shore carved upwards into the sharp cliffs of Mount Briar. No homes were scattered this far away from the city and the path had ended over a mile back, slowly transitioning from a stone road, to a worn trail, then gone beneath dense grass and brush. Two horses were tethered to nearby trees. One was a black stallion outfitted in armor plating and the signature black cloaking of the King’s guard. The other was pure white with an elegant saddle and draped in lavish caparisons of navy and silver that were embroidered with a snow owl. They grazed leisurely, relishing in the shade of the forest and the cool breeze that rolled off the river and rustled the leaves overhead. 

Leaning against one of the nearby trees was a King’s guardsman, not in his plate armor but still wearing his crown sanctioned leathers emblazoned with the royal seal. The sleeves of his tunic had long since been rolled up into the crooks of his elbows to spare himself from a fraction of the heat. Sweat glistened along his brow and ran down his muscular forearms. The strands of his blond hair whipped around from the soft breeze, clinging to every damp piece of skin they came into contact with. Coren may have looked like he was melting in the heat, he might have even admitted it when asked, but his attention was fixed and perception attuned to every rustle of branches, snap of a twig, or boat sailing down the Weave. The heat or his discomfort was irrelevant in comparison to his charge.

Several feet further down the shore, past the edge of the treeline where the bank met the steep ascending crags climbing out of the Weave stood the Princess Rhea Storvane. Loose crimson hair that fell from her braid was tousled around her face by the strong breeze, occasionally catching in her eyelashes and between her lips. Every gust of wind blew the skirt of her riding kirtle, whipping it against her legs like a flag atop a mast. She stood beside a six foot long mound of river rocks that was marked by a pine sapling little bigger than a small branch sticking out of the earth. The heels of her boots sunk into the damp mixture of mud and sand as she stared at the grave, stoic with a forlorn heaviness behind her hazel eyes.

She slowly pulled her dove skin gloves off one finger at a time with a reverent patience that was methodical and almost ritualistic. Rhea swallowed a lump that had grown in her throat, trying to keep hold of her emotions as she tucked each glove beneath her belt. Tears welled against her lashes and burned her eyes but were quickly carried away on the wind before they could trail down her pale cheeks. Her left hand rose like she was accepting an offering from the wind, palm up turned toward the heavens steadily while her fingers trembled as if she had a chill in the middle of the summer heat. Her gaze was fixed on a small bit of thread tied around her ring finger, once dark in color now frayed and lightened by the sun. 

It had been nearly two years since their wedding… and nearly two years since his death. With every passing day, the image of Gareth’s face grew hazy and foreign like a dream slipping from memory with the rising sun. Rhea could no longer recall the sound of his voice or the unique curvature of his smile. Only his scent remained: leather, cedar and freshly bloomed lilac. The love and longing she had for him would remain with her until the day she died, but she could feel it slipping through her fingers like trying to catch water with her bare hands. 

She didn’t want to be rid of her last piece of him, frightened that with its absence he would fade from reality and become no more than a fever dream. But her mother’s threats were not to be taken lightly. If the Queen found Rhea with her wedding ring she would be married off to whichever Lord promised the most advantageous union and alliance without so much as a care for her own happiness. It was cruel. But it was just another way for her mother to punish her. Rhea couldn’t disgrace the family if she was caged like a bird with her wings clipped. It left her with only two choices, a life of misery tied to a man she did not love or smothering the flame for her dearly departed. As much as it pained her, she couldn’t risk her last chance at freedom… not for the dead. Gareth would want her to find happiness, even if that meant forsaking him.

Rhea knelt beside the grave, feeling the coolness of the mud soaking into her ivory trousers, but she paid it no mind. She reached out, placing her hand tenderly upon the sapling. [color=10636f]"Hello, my love,"[/color] she whispered to the wind like a prayer that Umbran might carry it to Gareth’s soul. Delicate trembling fingers shifted the rocks to reveal a hidden niche filled with trinkets from their time together: a sparrow’s feather, dried lilac, a cracked shell from the Bay of Kings, and a similar circle of knotted thread. Her breaths grew ragged and heavy as she pulled her ring from her finger, being sure to leave the knot intact. She studied it for the last time, trying to commit her final token to memory. [color=10636f]"Keep it safe for me?"[/color] Her voice quivered, tears speckled the river rocks beneath her as she leaned forward and rested the worn bit of thread with its mate. 

She struggled to swallow past the lump that stole her words, harder still to force herself to breathe when her body ceased to do it on its own. Rhea held fast to her strength, relying only on her sheer willpower to refrain from burying herself beneath the earth beside him. It would be simple, [i]easy[/i] to let herself fall into Umbran’s embrace alongside Gareth. Death was easy… Finding a reason to continue living was far more difficult. Each day that passed her desires tipped the scales toward the darkness, losing another piece of herself along with it. Gareth would want her to try and find the sunlight again. Declan, her father, Coren… She clung to the small handful of reasons like a bouquet she was desperate to tend. For them, not for her.

She tenderly returned the rocks to their resting place, burying the memories of their love away from the world, if only to save the last piece of her heart from being shattered beneath her mother’s ire. Before she could succumb to her grief, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the sapling. [color=10636f]"Farewell, my love."[/color] Rhea got to her feet, keeping her back to the grave without a second glance as she made her way back to Ser Coren who waited, patient and vigilant, by their horses. 

The knight pushed off the tree and walked the short distance to his steed, who was still content and grazing and completely unaware or unbothered by his presence. He pulled a waterskin from where it was tied to the saddle and made his way back over to her. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Hands[/i], Princess,"[/color] he instructed her gently, removing the stopper then motioning her hands forward with a subtle gesture of his fingers.

Rhea took a small step forward, holding out her hands between them with a small sniffle. After nearly two years of guardianship, Coren had seen her traverse every emotion, through her highs and lows, she was no longer bothered when he saw her cry. Her gaze shifted from her dirt covered hands, that now felt naked without the small bit of thread, up to his eyes that rivaled the rich blues of the Weave. [color=10636f]"You may call me Rhea… We are the only souls for miles,"[/color] she spoke softly, repeating a conversation they have shared nearly every fortnight. 

Coren’s brows furrowed out of concentration, not at her words, as he carefully poured the water over her hands with a practiced diligence, endeavoring to wash away the dirt. While his attention was steadfast, the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth. [color=d6d6d6]"Habit, Princess,"[/color] he answered resolutely, although an air of levity laced his words. [color=d6d6d6]"I would hate for our familiarity to reflect poorly upon yourself. I do not wish to slip in the wrong company."[/color] He put the stopper back in the waterskin before tucking it beneath his arm and grabbing a bit of cloth that hung from his belt. [color=d6d6d6]"Your burdens are heavy. I seek to lighten them, not add to the weight."[/color]

[color=10636f]"If you worry about Declan—"[/color] she started as he used the cloth to gently dry her hands like she was more fragile than fresh blown glass. 

[color=d6d6d6]"The Captain is kind and gracious,"[/color] Coren interjected, hand hesitating in the air between them clutching the bit of, now damp, cloth. A quiet sigh fell from his lips when he knew asking for permission was fruitless. The Princess gave him more freedom than was proper… More freedom than he deserved. So, he did not ask before one hand gently took her chin and guided her head toward the sun while he wiped an errant tear from her cheek. [color=d6d6d6]"He is grateful I watch over you where he has been forbidden."[/color] He released his hold and took a step back, putting a more respectable bit of space between them as he tucked the cloth back beneath his belt. [color=d6d6d6]"I do not fear him… I fear the Queen."[/color]

Rhea sighed as she slowly slipped her glove back onto her left hand in an attempt to make it feel less bare, tucking and tugging the leather into place between her fingers. [color=10636f]"To hell with my mother."[/color] The words fell from her mouth, cold and bitter, like berries left to rot beneath the first frost. 

[color=d6d6d6]"[i]Princess…[/i]"[/color]

[color=10636f]"Do you disagree?"[/color] She asked, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, pausing in the middle of donning her other glove. 

Coren sighed uncomfortably, shifting his stance and resting his hands on top of his sword’s pommel. The muscle in his jaw tensed as he sifted through his thoughts and feelings. [color=d6d6d6]"I think…"[/color] He took a small step forward, narrowing the space between them by a fraction as if he intended to share a secret. [color=d6d6d6]"The trees and the rocks and the winds have ears… That words should not be so carelessly shared for we do not know who could be listening."[/color]

Rhea tugged the hem of her glove, the heaviness of her thoughts plain across her face in the way her brows tensed and furrowed, while her lips remained tightly pressed together. She inhaled, but words alluded her for a moment as she painstakingly forged the sentence in her mind before letting it free. [color=10636f]"Is there no part of me that remains free?"[/color] Her voice faltered as she spoke. Was she truly a prisoner in her own home?... In her own mind? It wasn’t until that very moment that Rhea truly felt like she had been stripped of everything that made her… [i]her.[/i] She was no longer Rhea Storvane but a shadow, a hollow husk of the woman she used to be, a puppet with her strings pulled taut at the beck and call of her mother.

[color=d6d6d6]"Princess…"[/color] Coren’s own voice wavered, soft and sympathetic, but he had no answers or comforts of his own to offer. [color=d6d6d6]"I will take your confidences to the grave."[/color] His voice was quiet but held a strong conviction. [color=d6d6d6]"If I had the power, I would shield you from your mother. But I cannot protect you from the whispers of others."[/color]

Her head nodded slowly, accepting the heavy burden of the truth with fortitude and a quiet resilience. [color=10636f]"I understand,"[/color] Rhea replied, little more than a whisper carried by the wind, as she slowly made her way over to her horse and lightly ran her fingers through the creature's mane, freeing any knots or tangles. [color=10636f]"It would seem my last hopes rest on the shoulders of a man I have yet to meet… I pray he is kind."[/color]

The knight made his way to her side, hands poised near her waist, ready to aid her climb or catch her should she lose balance. Rhea slipped her left foot into the stirrup, grabbed onto the horn and cantle, then pulled herself up with a practice grace. Unlike a proper lady—and most certainly not a Princess—she swung her right leg over the horse’s back, slipped her right foot into the other stirrup and settled onto the saddle in proper riding form. She leaned forward and stroked the side of the mare’s neck while Coren set to checking her mount as he did before every ride.

[color=d6d6d6]"I have grown accustomed to watching over you,"[/color] the guardsman commented with a lopsided smile. He tested the tautness of the saddle’s straps by giving each one a firm tug, then made sure the treads of each stirrup were nestled just before the heels of her boots.. [color=d6d6d6]"I do not know what I will do once you have gone."[/color] The confession was quiet with an air of playful banter, but beneath the levity there was a genuine weight that hung in the silence. 

[color=10636f]"You would come with me, of course,"[/color] Rhea replied, looking down at him as he secured her saddle for the fourth time that day. Her answer was simple. It fell from her lips without hesitation, brazenly honest. 

Coren’s smile grew, warm and a little less guarded as he gathered the reins and placed them carefully into her hands. [color=d6d6d6]"That is an enticing offer, Princess. But I am a King’s Guard. Once you marry, you are no longer a royal… No longer my charge."[/color] The possibility of them ever seeing one another after she became the wife of a Lord was not likely, regardless of the friendship they had built in their time together. His duty was to the King. What Lord would allow his wife to bring a guardsman along with her?

[color=10636f]"Then I shall [i]take[/i] you,"[/color] she offered with a bright smile and resolute nod of her head. 

The guardsman laughed, deep, unbidden and from his chest, shaking his head in disbelief as he untethered his own horse. [color=d6d6d6]"And how would you accomplish that?"[/color] Coren asked as he mounted his horse with far less care and showmanship than his charge. 

[color=10636f]"I could spirit you away,"[/color] Rhea whispered, leaning towards her guard conspiratorially as her light slowly returned and bloomed across her face. [color=10636f]"Or… I could ask my father,"[/color] she offered up her second option with a light snort and far less conviction.

[color=d6d6d6]"Is it that simple?"[/color] Coren grabbed his reins, sparring her a sidelong glance, finding her determination endearing. 


[color=10636f]"[i]Mhmm.[/i]"[/color] The hum sang behind her mischievous grin. Rhea held her head up with a confident assurance as she guided her horse toward the hoof trodden path they created earlier that day.  

Coren shook his head, tousling sweat-dampened hair as he followed after her. [color=d6d6d6]"As you wish,"[/color] he answered under his breath, far too quiet for her to hear.

Rhea slowed her horse as she reached the small clearing of trees. Nothing stood before them in the vast stretch of space that inevitably led to their trail. A glint sparkled in her eyes as one small, brief moment of freedom presented itself before her on a silver platter. She snuck a quick glance over her shoulder toward Coren who trailed behind her. [color=10636f]"Race you to the Citadel."[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"Princess, I do not—"[/color]

[color=10636f]"It was not a question,"[/color] she called back to him with a weightless laugh followed by the crack of her reins. Without any other warning, she sped off beneath the narrow archway of trees where the light that slipped between the leaves covered her in golden speckles that sparkled warm like amber. The breeze might have wiped away Rhea’s tears, but it did not lighten her soul. It caressed her skin, but it did not stave off the heat… Her only respite from her gilded cage and her mother’s looming shadow was found on horseback. And in that fleeting moment… She was [i]free.[/i][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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